


A Home For My People -Working Title-

by fatale_distraction



Series: Making Bad Decisions: The Ellana Saga [5]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Angst, Consent, Dirty Talk, Drama, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Humor, I'm workin on it okay, Maybe Some Plot?, Oral Sex, Other, Plot, Porn, Praise Kink, Sex, Smut, awesome sisters, dread baby, i crack myself up, plot?, really just some fuckin nasty filthy porn, so much drama, solavellan baby - Freeform, there's kind of a plot, what i like to call humor
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-12-13
Updated: 2017-04-14
Packaged: 2018-09-08 07:49:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 19
Words: 56,757
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8836345
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fatale_distraction/pseuds/fatale_distraction
Summary: Set just after Crestwood and continuing post-Trespasser.Ellana Lavellan, a Dalish huntress with a sweet, earnest disposition and a mischievous streak reunites with her sister, a blunt, saucy yet sincere woman who has become the Keeper of what remains of their clan. The plight of her people inspires Ellana to turn Skyhold into the first Elvhen owned land since Arlathan, a new hope for the Elvhen of Thedas, and an alternative to the dangerous methods of Fen'Harel, and a desperate attempt to convince Solas that hers is a world worth saving.While she helps Ellana struggle to keep the Inquisition together, create a home for her people, and juggle her feelings for Solas as well as for handsome and sweet Cremisius Aclassi, Cullen ends up falling hard for the Inquisitor's sister, literally in some cases.Note: So much smut it's embarrassing. There's so much porn. Don't tell my grandma, please she's like 96 she can't handle this amount of shame.Featuring my Lavellan and her sister, inspired by my own sister's Warden.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This work has been pieced together from a notebook with a very scattered timeline, and an inordinate amount of truly dirty, shameless written pornography. While chapter 1 remains (mostly) smut free (kind of), it's gonna get very NSFW.  
> Like, whatever you're thinking right now, you are grossly underestimating the amount of balls-deep naked interpretive dance that will be occurring.  
> Anyway.  
> HAVE FUN!

Solas watched the training yard in solitude high at the top of the mage's tower. The Inquisitor was sparring with the Qunari, abandoning her bow and quiver for the physical release of a stout shield and mace. She attacked with a ferocity rivaling the very dragon gods of old, driving The Iron Bull back with the sheer force of her fury, sweat and tears dripping from her nose and chin as she swung the heavy weapon. Bull wore a tight expression of concern, but he certainly wasn't going easy on her, either. He knew better.

Once, she would have come to him for release, Solas thought wryly.

The elf closed his eyes and saw her face, violet eyes sparkling with a rosy-cheeked smile, wisps of red hair escaped from her elaborate braids, framing her face like little crimson clouds. She writhed beneath him, fingers trailing a path of flames down his back, her freckled skin flushed and sweaty, glowing silver in the pale moonlight. She laughed at his side on a garden balcony in Orlais, leaned with her head on his shoulder while they danced slowly, alone in the dark. She showered kisses upon him while murmuring sweet elvhen poetry against his skin. Her shoulders shaking as the crumpled missive bearing the news of her clan's fate flutters to the floor. The hoarse gasp of release as she arched her back and came wetly against his stomach. Her voice lifted in the light, trembling song of a lark when she thinks no one is around to hear. The vallaslin of Mythal which she wore proudly, in pointed defiance of their origin. Her eyes burning raw fire in the heat of battle as she lines up a shot and lets fly with a laugh of triumph. Tired, bloodied, and dirty, but smiling and laughing with her team, eyes coming to rest on him and lingering as her expression softens and the love between them radiates tangibly in the crisp mountain air, like gold dust on the wind. His heart, old and withered away into ash was renewed by her mere presence. With every passing moment, he felt more and more alive, awakened by the slightest of glances.

He opened his eyes. All of that was over now. His heart felt like cold, brittle stone, as it had long ago. It was a necessary separation, but it hurt just the same, a deep reverberating ache in his chest. A chill wind swirled around him and he drew his cloak more tightly around himself. With a last fleeting glance at his former love, he turned and sulked back inside.

 

* * *

 

 

Wood and metal crashed together violently. The Iron Bull grunted against the impact. For such a little thing, the Inquisitor could really kick some ass. He had already known this, of course, but rarely had he been on the receiving end of the ass-kicking, and even more rarely had she seemed so angry and upset.

She hadn't told anyone. They'd find out eventually. Gossip in Skyhold spread like wildfire in a drought. There had been colorful rumors of their amorous activities before they had even begun. Ellana let her left arm fall to her side wearily still clutching the mace, rubbing her temple with her right hand.

"I think that's enough for now, Bull," she sighed in a broken voice.

The Qunari nodded silently and helped the small woman remove the shield from her arm. "You alright, boss?" he asked quietly.

"Just...really needed to hit something," she smiled weakly. "Thanks for sparring with me." The Inquisitor turned, wiping her face of sweat and tears before he could determine the difference.

"If you need me to kick someone's ass, let me know!" he called after her. Krem was just coming out of the tavern and echoed the sentiment without knowing the context. It wasn't important. He was always willing to kick an ass for the sake of the Inquisitor. In spite of her sour mood, Ellana had to crack a wry smile.

 

* * *

 

 

The Dalish woman slammed into her quarters and stripped her leather armor off immediately. Josephine had made sure a hot bath was waiting and the Inquisitor sank down into the steaming water gratefully, the heat creeping into her aching muscles, easing the tension from her shoulders and back, and she gave a long, heavy sigh of relief.

The next morning, she woke with a knot in her back, her bed cold and empty. She dressed alone in a green tunic, soft grey leggings, and supple brown leathers. She braided her long curling hair alone, and walked downstairs to the breakfast table alone. Commander Cullen had a gently smile for her as usual, and Josephine was cheerfully busy as ever, even at breakfast, but Ellana's stormy mood couldn't be breached even by Leliana's animated updates on her nug breeding project. Eventually talk turned to business.

This morning, the Inquisitor was expected to inspect new recruits with Cullen and Cassandra, oversee the delivery of a large shipment of lyrium to the mage tower, and put her signature to a series of requisition requests from the quartermaster. At lunch, she was to dine with some Ferelden contacts and determine where the men and women would serve the most use. In the afternoon, she was to take a team out to a ghoul-infested ruin and retrieve an artifact of interest for Vivienne, and on the way back, rendezvous with Scout Harding and the Chargers, who had decided to intervene with a bandit situation near the keep. She was then to squeeze herself into the most absurdly extravagant gown she had ever laid eyes on and attend a ladies dinner with several Orlesian comtesses and one duchess. When she returned, there were a million reports to read, operations to schedule and approve, letters to write, and a bit of important elvhen texts in need of translation that she had been putting off far too long.

Originally, Ellana had intended Solas to take care of them, but she now found herself unable to tolerate his company for even a moment without feeling as though her heart were trying to claw its way out of her chest. She had tried, very hard in fact. But an afternoon of quiet consultation over the tomes had quickly turned into an absolute embarrassment when they couldn't seem to stop their hands from touching. The brush of a hand while turning a page had turned into a grappling, desperate and entirely unsatisfying romp on the desk, papers scattering as he pressed her into the cool surface of his table, devouring her lips while her legs tangled around his middle and he rutted against her with hoarse, sobbing groans and tears rolled down her cheeks even as she kissed hungrily back. Afterwards, in a humiliated rage, she had seized the texts from the rotunda and moved them to her personal quarters, where he was now forbidden to enter come hell or high water.

She looked over her to do list for the day and felt exhausted already. The stress weighed doubly heavy on her shoulders knowing that she wouldn't even have the comfort of a late night roll in the hay with a certain bald-headed heartbreaking bastard to look forward to at the end of this very long day.

He had insisted over and over that he was leaving for her benefit; that he was distracting her from her duties as Inquisitor. If she needed anything right now, it was a motherfucking distraction, she thought bitterly on the way to the barracks with Cullen and Cassandra, the other two sharing cordial, friendly small talk that she envied them for.

 

* * *

 

 

Ellana rode out the gates astride her Hart, a powerful, foul-tempered black and grey beast with a heavy rack of antlers that could inspire the fear of the gods in even the most stalwart hunter. His name was Ser Winston Fluffybottom III, though most referred to him as "That Asshole" when his rider was out of earshot. She was the only person who could go near him, including horsemaster Dennet, without being bitten, kicked, spat upon, or shrieked at. In fact, when Ellana was around, he turned into the most gentle, affectionate creature one could imagine, nuzzling her hair and cheeks, batting his long-lashed equine eyes and making soft snorts and honks at her.

It was disgusting, and Solas was horribly, horribly jealous, though he told himself over and over that he had no right to be jealous of anything, much less a great hairy beast of a hart. He watched her go, sitting as straight and tall as a woman of such miniscule stature could, elegant and capable in her saddle. Iron Bull and Dorian went ahead of her, loudly arguing and exchanging flirtatious jabs at one another, followed by Cassandra. Ellana hung back a moment, exchanging a few words with the Commander, and Bull's second in command, Cremisius. Cullen looked up at her with concern obvious on his handsome face, and Krem's hand rested familiarly on her knee as he gazed up at her with mixed admiration and worry. The Inquisitor had a sad, strained smile on her face as she squeezed his hand tightly and leaned down, to speak something soft and reassuring to them.

Solas' blood boiled thickly in his veins, though he tried to ignore the rage bubbling up in his chest. She was not his anymore. She could go where she pleased, and take whomever she wanted now. If she wanted the Commander to warm her bed, or the boy Krem to take her behind the barn, or both of them to fuck her on the Inquisition throne, that was her business.

Ser Winston hooted in annoyance and took a swipe at Cullen with his teeth, the Commander jumping back and shouting in alarm. The mage couldn't suppress a satisfied smirk. Justice came in rare forms.

He turned and retreated back into the keep, entering the rotunda and shutting the heavy wooden door. With a sigh, he turned to his mural and picked up a brush, but his heart wasn't in it. Ellana had never once left him behind, especially when she rode out to explore a ruin. She always said that she knew how much he loved them, and would make sure to invite him. She loved to hear his musings on the architecture and carvings, relished anything he could teach her about their people, and her eyes would light up at any bit of history he was able to share. It hurt to be excluded so pointedly, even knowing he had only himself to blame. The thought that it was his own fault did nothing to ease the sting.

 

* * *

 

 

"Commander, you seem distracted," Leliana commented in her lilting accent, appearing at his side as he headed back to his office. He had gotten used to her way of popping up out of nowhere. "Is everything alright?"

He sighed heavily. "Our dear Inquisitor has been in such a dark mood these last few days, none of her usual enthusiasm or cheer. I once saw her climb a mountain, through a sheer force of will, and then proceed to flip everything off, the mountain, the trees, the sky, and shout 'Haha! Fuck you, you mountain!'" His impression was quite impressive. "Now she can barely manage a smile, much less a mountain."

"Everyone has noticed, and we are all concerned," the Spymaster murmured unhappily. "But this is something she will have to overcome on her own. We can try to help her in whatever ways we can, but ultimately..."

"You know what's wrong with her?" interrupted Cullen abruptly.

"You hadn't noticed?" Leliana looked a bit surprised. "Ellana and Solas haven't said a word to each other in days. She won't even look at him, much less tolerate his company for more than a moment."

The templar frowned. "They've broken up?"

"That is my understanding." Leliana glanced around, then leaned forward with a conspiratory whisper. "From what I've heard, it was Solas who broke things off, quite abruptly, and without much of an explanation."

"What?" Cullen's brown eyes widened. "How did this happen? They've been inseparable since Haven, always whispering together in the library, in the gardens, disappearing by themselves into the woods, telling what I can only assume to be dirty jokes in Elvish..." He shook his head in disbelief. Leliana shrugged helplessly. "Poor Ellana..."

The advisors walked together in silence for a moment, mounting the stairs leading to the battlements. "I think she could use some company...of a particular nature..." mused the red-haired bard after a while.

Cullen snorted. "Or a drink."

"Or both." Leliana shot him a coy smile. The commander cocked his head suspiciously.

 

* * *

 

 

"So I said, 'Yeah, and I'm Empress Celine of Orlais'," finished Krem, slapping his knee with a hearty laugh. Ellana choked on a laugh and nearly fell out of her saddle. She passed a skin of spiced Ferelden whiskey back to Krem, wiping her mouth with the back of her glove. It tasted like being punched in the mouth by an extremely old, grumpy tree, with just a hint of flaming hot magma, and a pinch of nutmeg. The Chargers quaffed it like water.

It was nice to see her smile again, Krem thought as he took a swig and passed it back. Even if it was the drink and bawdy jokes bringing the color to her cheeks, at least for a few moments she was her old self.

"I don't know," she gasped through a laugh. "I think you'd look positively enchanting in that peacock feather gown of hers."

Krem made a face. "What the one with the headpiece made of solid fucking marble?" he asked incredulously. "No, not my color at all. The big pink one with all the lacy bits and ruffles, and sun dial for a collar, THAT'S the ticket."

Ellana choked again. "Krem, you'll kill me!" she wheezed.

They shared another raucous laugh. The paper in Cremisius' belt crackled as he shifted in his courser's saddle. Just before they had left Riverwood village, a tiny settlement not far from Skyhold that was now several bandits shorter, a crow had alighted daintily on The Iron Bull's horn bearing a missive, directed oddly enough to Krem. In hasty Orlesian writing, it read:

"Krem--

URGENT ORDERS

You are to acquire a substantial amount of alcohol and flirt MERCILESSLY with Lady Lavellan.

You must be ruthless and unforgiving in this."

Here, the neat, professional lettering ended, giving way to the blocky letters of the Trade language.

"Under NO circumstance-----"

Cullen's familiar scrawl ended abruptly with a large splotch, a tear, and a long smear of ink.

"Do whatever is necessary. The fate of the Inquisition is on your shoulders.

-L"

Krem wasn't one to question orders, and this was hardly the most absurd mission he'd been given, either by the Inquisition or as a job for the Chargers. Besides, no sane man would turn down the chance to enjoy a foggy afternoon ride with the lovely elven Inquisitor and a bottle of good whiskey. A smile from her at first had been enough to make him blush all the way up to his ears, but after a few rowdy nights at the tavern with her, they had developed a close friendship and he felt more at ease with her, even if his little crush hadn't abated in the slightest.

 

* * *

 

 

"But mother, I don't WANT to go to the ball!" wailed Ellana, face down on her bed while Josephine struggled to force her into tight stays and a petticoat.

"Yes, let's get the face of the Inquisition DRUNK right before an important political dinner with the Comtesse du Foie Gras!!" the Ambassador exclaimed facetiously. "Great idea, Leliana! 'Oh you're so very welcome, Josie, I know how much you love it when I'm doing my best to PISS YOU OFF!'"

"I want to stay home and bake cookies with you!" the drunk elf sobbed hysterically.

"There will be no cookies!" shrieked Josephine, yanking the laces tighter on Ellana's stays.

A bucket of water, a new set of underclothes, and a great deal of yelling and screaming later, Inquisitor Lavellan stood, dressed and ready as she ever would be, before the long mirror in her room.

Her flaming curls had been twisted, braided, and skewered with decorative pins, and the tiniest, most feathery hat she'd ever seen perched primly atop the pile. Her fair, freckled face, usually bare since makeup running into your eyes generally wasn't an awesome thing to happen as you lined up a crucial shot with enormous scaly demons bearing down on you, was powdered and painted to her exact skintone. Her vallaslin and freckles were then infuriatingly painted right back on, and a beauty mark dotted just beneath her eye on the opposite side of where her actual beauty mark was. Apparently, hers was on the 'straight side', and Josephine insisted it would cause a far better scandal if it were under the other eye, which was apparently a good thing.

"Why can't I just be caught kissing a serving girl behind a curtain?" Ellana asked while Josephine was smearing purple paint around her eyelids and applying thick, absurdly red kohl to her lashes. "I could do that. I would LOVE to do that. Sounds rather nice, actually..." she trailed off, imagining a nice soft breast and a pretty smile.

"Your actual preferences aside," the Antivan began with an amused expression. "Actually being caught in the act would cause far too much of a stir. Better to leave things ambiguous and let the nobility draw their own conclusions in this case."

"Whatever." A ridiculous shade of pink was then dusted high onto her cheek bones, and a heavy amount of glimmering powder applied just above it and over the hollows of her cheeks. A deep red on her lips completed Josephine's work.

Her dress was made of a lightweight, gauzy fabric Josephine described as "royal purple", with a hint of sparkle to it. The skirt was long and full, and blessedly unruffled, though the hem was embellished by some shimmery silk lace. The bodice was low cut, studded with crystals in a design harkening her Dalish heritage, though none of her clan would even be able to imagine such a dress. The sleeves were tall, stiff and winglike, threaded with silver embroidery in another loosely Dalish design.

By Orlesian standards, she knew she must look resplendent, the belle of the ball. By her own, she was unsure. She didn't mind the lipcolor, and liked to wear black kohl around her eyes and on her thick lashes for special occasions, and preferred her hair kept out of her face anyway. She didn't even mind dresses, as long as she could run or ride in them. Everything was stunningly beautiful, if over the top, but it simply wasn't her, as earnestly as it tried.

She still had to attend the dinner, though, and she had to pretend she wasn't miserable, even when she felt as though she'd rather be locked away in the Deep Roads with an empty quiver. Her heart ached terribly, and the stays pinched her stomach. The Breach loomed menacingly in the mirror's reflection through the open window, a ghoulish reminder glowing green across the cloudy night sky.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! Please comment or message me with any questions, concerns, or constructive critiques. You can scream at my inbox on tumblr at allmyhusbandsarefictional.tumblr.com


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Solas is in deep shit.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> More broken-ass plot, but it's important for later. I guess.  
> Most importantly, we're coming up on the first of the good stuff within the next couple chapters.  
> By the good stuff I mean porn.  
> Dirty, dirty porn.

Green flames licked the sky, long clawed fingers tearing endless rends in the sky, the Veil pulling and peeling away like burning skin. The magic of the Fade flowed back into the world, sinking into the soil, creeping into the cracks in the mountains, settling on his skin like a dusting of snow. Spirit of joy and love came pouring out, but as soon as they crossed over, they shifted horribly and became corrupted, contorting into demons before his very eyes. It had to happen. If anything were to change, it had to happen, no matter the consequences. He had no choice. The Veil was his doing, and it was up to him to undo it and bring magic back into the world.

Solas woke with a jerk. The same dream had been pestering him for weeks, tainting his exploration of the Fade. His hand passed tiredly over his eyes. He had hoped that once he stopped seeing Ellana, as much as it pained him, at the very least the guilt dreams would cease. But they hadn't abated at all.

The mage stretched and stood slowly, taking up his staff, his air more melancholy than ever. With a stiff stride, he headed back to the keep from the shady copse of trees at the base of the back wall. He had once awoken there with his head cradled in Ellana's lap. He recalled the surprise he had felt, the pressure in his chest, heavy and light at once, the little flutter his heart made when his bleary eyes met hers, so full of laughter. She had let herself be pulled down next to him and he had kissed her, again and again until they were both breathless and giddy.

He shook his head clear of those thoughts. Tonight was one of those rare occasions that Solas had no desire to sleep or to dream. He much preferred to be awake and kept busy than sleep and risk another nightmare instead of his usual wanderings. He would need tea. So much tea. He hated tea on a good day, but recently the must have developed a kind of vendetta against him, and now brewed even the most delicate of teas dark and bitter and practically unpalatable.

He mulled stormily over this as he entered the great hall, intending to head straight to the rotunda and get to work. He didn't make it a single step past the doorway. He found his movement suddenly arrested by the appearance of Josephine and the Inquisitor on their way out for the evening. It took every single ounce of his considerable self control not to gape openly.

She didn't just sparkle; she glowed, as if from the inside out. Her dress was cut to perfectly accentuate her slim frame, her exposed shoulders appearing delicate as glass, dwarfed as they were by the winglike sleeve caps of her gown. Garish as the forced grandeur was, Solas found himself admiring the carefully sculpted work of art before him, a practice in the extravagance of Orlais, a fitting tribute to The Game. Josephine had done wonders, transforming the powerful if petite huntress into the very picture of an elegant courtier.

The artistry of Josephine's masquerade only went so far, however. She could paint on a smile, powder the heady color of excitement onto the apples of her cheeks, and deck her out in festive colors, but even the Ambassador, skilled as she was, couldn't disguise the look in her eyes. Defeat. Dejection. The light had gone from her eyes completely. Despite all her finery and the beautiful, gracious smile plastered onto her face, and though very few of the others gathered in the hall would notice, she was miserable.

Solas cast his eyes down and stepped to the side, against the stone hearth, crackling merrily in the fading light. As Josephine and the Inquisitor passed by him, he glanced up at her beneath his lashes, head bent respectfully. Their eyes met for a brief, shocking moment, as she happened to look to the side. Her step never faltered, her perfectly crafted smile didn't even twitch. She swept out the enormous double doors without a look back. The only change was a hardening in her eyes, a determined tilt of her chin. She may have been wearing a ballgown, but she was going out to battle.

"Even with all that crap on her face, she always looks great when she's about to kick some ass." Varric leaned against the hearthstones next to Solas, a goblet of golden mead swirling in one ink stained hand.

"Yes," the elf agreed quietly, voice thick with emotion. "Yes she does." The filigreed wooden doors swung shut with a resounding crash. Only then did Solas raise his head. Across the hall, he caught sight of Cremisius, staring at him with a cold, hard look on his youthful face. Devoid of expression, Solas met his gaze with the unflinching skill one acquired over quite a few more years than Krem had under his belt.

"Yeah, Lieutenant Dreamboat over there isn't too happy with your sudden change of heart," Varric quipped, taking a swig of his drink. "Neither is the cook, or so I hear. I'd stay clear of your soup tonight. Just a feeling."

"Nothing has changed," Solas murmured. "I never should have become involved with the Inquisitor in the first place, regardless of my feelings." Across the room, Krem stalked away, meeting with Cassandra and Cullen and speaking quietly. The mage could feel his anger prickling at his skin even at this distance. He was distinctly aware of how oddly protective he was over Ellana for a mere hired sword. "And what of you, Child of Stone? Do you hate me as well?"

"Well, I hate that you don't seem to remember my name sometimes," he cracked, only half-joking. "But your personal affairs are your business. I love our Herald as much as anyone, and I hate seeing her like this." He shifted from one stout leg to the other. "But you guys do what you gotta do. If being with her wouldn't have made you happy, who could blame you? Well. Besides the obvious." He gestured with his cup to where Krem was being gently chided by Cassandra.

A wry, depreciative smile spread across Solas' lips. "On the contrary. Nothing would make me happier than to spend the rest of my life with Ellana, whatever remains of it. She is curious, intelligent, and so very kind...and she has the most stimulating sense of humor, such zest for life...I love her very dearly." His grey eyes took on a distant, longing expression, as though he were looking back through a thousand years.

Varric lifted an eyebrow. "Then what gives, Chuckles?" There was no judgement in his voice. Only a gentle concern for a good friend.

Solas shook his head ruefully. "I wish I could tell you...it eats away at me with every passing day, but I cannot..." he took a bracing breath. "Just know that despite my own feelings for her, there is ample reason for our separation."

The dwarf considered this for a moment, then shrugged. "You gotta do what you gotta do," he repeated. "The Inquisitor knows about making hard decisions. She's sacrificed a lot for the greater good. I can only hope that those sacrifices are worth it." With that, he pushed off the hearth and began to walk away. The show was over; it was time to get back to work. He just HAD to see the look on Cassandra's face when he handed her a new volume of Swords and Shields.

Solas smiled at him dryly. "As do I, my friend," he murmured. "Thank you, Varric." The dwarf looked up in surprise at the sound of his name. "I cannot say you have eased my heart, but I appreciate your words." The anguished mage took his leave, pushing the door to the rotunda open, with Varric staring after him, a confused, sympathetic look on his broad face.

 

* * *

 

 

Josephine considered the dinner party to be a wild success. The Inquisitor had been charming, witty, and just impolite enough to incite a few scandalized giggles from the other guests. She had even managed through the whole night without tripping on the hem of her dress, snapping a heel, or dropping food down her cleavage. Even more impressive was that she never once ATE any food from her cleavage. She had a tendency to smuggle snacks with her everywhere.

Ellana, on the other hand, considered the dinner an outrageous waste of time. She fumed murderous thought in the carriage on the way home, while Josephine prattled away about what a lovely evening it had been and the coach jostled them around as it spend over the uneven road. Apparently, they had made several crucial alliances, secured a favor to provide supplies to Harding's next foray into the Emerald Graves, and been granted a generous donation to the remaining Hinterlands refugees. They were all valuable resources, but they were things Josephine could have easily done on her own. Ellana was not in any sort of mood to deal with twittering, simpering nobles. Her stays were poking her in the ribs, her boobs were somehow pushed up to her chin, and hadn't even thought she had enough boob to warrant cleavage, but there it was, right under her nose and infuriatingly devoid of snacks. The pins holding her hair were making her scalp ache, and her ankles hurt from the ridiculous, tottering heels she wore. She kicked them off with a grumble of relief, stretching her pinched toes. 

"I'm so glad you decided to come with me tonight, Inquisitor," gushed Josephine, glowing with happiness in a becoming navy blue gown that sparkled like the night sky. "You've been in such a sad mood lately, I thought a party would be just the thing to cheer you up again!"

Ellana's heart softened guiltily. She gave her friend a grateful smile, touched by the thoughtfulness of the gesture, however misguided it may have been. "Thanks, Josie," she said, reaching over to squeeze the other woman's fingers. "Next time, though? Could I just have a night off?"

Josephine laughed, entirely unoffended by the blunt request. "Of course, Your Worship," she chuckled. "I'm sure you and Solas could could use some quality time together..." The insinuation was couples with a sly sideward glance. Ellana's weary smile fell almost immediately. "Or...maybe just a quiet night in with the girls, a bottle of wine, and a burning effigy?"

The elf laughed weakly. " _That_ sounds wonderful." 

Josephine smiled primly and patted Ellana's hand in a fond gesture. "Now, let's go over tomorrow's schedule." She pulled out her writing table with a flourish. Ellana groaned loudly.

 

* * *

 

 

"Has there been anything for me?" asked the Inquisitor as she mounted the stairs to the rookery in her nightdress, long hair loose down her back. It was late, but Leliana was still busy at work, burning the midnight oil as usual. 

The Nightingale looked up from a letter she was decoding. "No, Your Worship, nothing yet. I'm sorry." Her blue eyes were full of sympathy. The Inquisitor had enough going on already without this delay.

Ellana cursed, running a hand through her hair. "Okay...let me know if you hear anything...I have to know how many of them survived...the Keeper and the First..."

"I know," soothed Leliana. "I have had scouts out searching, and all my agents have specific instructions to find you immediately if anything is uncovered. If they are still out there, we _will_ find them." 

A frustrated sigh escaped her chest. "She never answers my letters..." Ellana grumbled. "How am I supposed to know if she's dead or just lazy?" 

Leliana tried not to smile. "She wouldn't be your sister if she didn't irritate you a little bit."

"You've got that right," snorted the Inquisitor.

 

* * *

 

 

There was a faint whistle followed up by a sudden thunk as an arrow plunged deeply through the neck joint of a templar, convulsing grotesquely with the corruption of red lyrium. He let out a warped scream, choking on his own blood as it bubbled between his lips. He sank dead to the ground and another arrow whizzed over the inert body, striking another templar in the eye. Iron Bull whooped in support a he thundered past Ellana and finished the shrieking man off with a war hammer to the face. The Bull and Dorian tag teamed the last fighter in a blast of flaming glory. Solas dispelled the protective ward he had been maintaining with a swift gesture and returned his staff to the holster on his back. 

Ellana hadn't had a choice but to include him on this outing. Infuriatingly enough, everyone else had provided suspiciously fake-sounding excuses, except Varric who simply refused on the grounds that he didn't feel like it, and Cole, who had mumbled something about an Antivan cook off without acknowledging her and wandered vaguely away with a chicken under one arm. The guarded look of surprise on Solas' face when she kicked the door open to find him bent over the table in his study had sent a shock straight through her bones.

"I have need of you," she'd spat without thinking. His eyebrows shot up at that. "In the field." They twitched higher. "With your staff." His brows blasted off into orbit. She could have slapped herself. Instead, she nodded as though she hadn't said anything unusual at all, spun on her heel, and fled. When the party had assembled a little later in the courtyard, he had stepped up behind her, unable to resist.

"I brought my staff," he whispered in her ear as he passed by. She snorted into her hand and nearly lost her mind trying not to laugh. As nice as it would be to fall so easily back into old, comfortable habits, she knew things couldn't be the same. She gave him a small, awkward smile, with a distinct, wistful sadness in his pale grey eyes.

Now, falling back into those habits despite every effort not to, she turned and smiled brightly at him, blood smeared across one cheek, her hair a mess of escaped strands. The light was just dissipating into a disappointed dullness in her eyes when a rogue unstealthed behind her, reaching out with a clawed gauntlet and a curved, jagged blade.

"Ellana, look out!" Solas cried hoarsely, charging up a spell as he swung his staff off his back. Time seemed to slow. Dorian and Iron Bull turned. The Bull began rushing toward the Inquisitor, but not quick enough. He wouldn't make it. Dorian was fumbling with his own staff, flames springing from his finger tips. Too slow, all too slow. 

Suddenly an explosion of electricity engulfed the fighter, her body quaking disturbingly before she crumbled to the ground. Ellana jumped away, turning in surprise at the explosive sound and the horrifying scream that died in the woman's throat as she expired. Bull skidded to a clumsy halt and gaped in shock at the twitching body. He put an end to whatever suffering remained with a sickening crack of his hammer. 

Solas, hand outstretched, stared in confusion. The spell he had been about to cast fizzled away on his fingers, his already pale face now drained completely of color. Dorian was smiling, impressed, in the direction the spell had come from, arms crossed over his chest, the relief evident on his dark face. Bull dusted some ash from Ellana's shoulder as she turned to look as well. As Solas' heart rate slowed to a normal pace and his breath returned to his lungs, assured that the Inquisitor was unharmed, his eyes trained on the figure strolling casually down the hill, a crooked wooden staff slung over her shoulders like a yoke. She was taller than Ellana, which wasn't saying much, her skin darkened with a healthy tan, and her long black hair fell in a familiar wave down past her hips, swaying with the even rhythm of her steps. A scar cut through her left cheek, over which golden, cat-like eyes gleamed smugly.

Ellana suddenly screamed shrilly. All three men jumped to readiness again, but relaxed when she took off running with her arms spread wide. The girls collided and tumbled to the ground in a shrieking, laughing heap. "Why don't you ever answer my letters?!" the Inquisitor wailed, hugging the woman with joyous tears trickling down her cheeks. "Guys," she yelled as struggled to stand. "Come meet Evelyn!" She was hauling on the other elf's arm to help her up as well.

"Who in Andraste's name is Evelyn?" Dorian asked with playful incredulity. Bull shrugged his enormous shoulders.

At the name 'Evelyn', Solas experienced the wildly conflicting urges to either run for his life, or throw up. He took an unsteady step forward. Swallowed thickly. Took a step back again.  "That would be Clan Lavellan's first...and...the Inquisitor's elder sister," he supplied weakly. 

Dorian and the Qunari exchanged a glance, then looked back to Solas. "Buddy, that woman," Bull rumbled in what he probably thought was a consoling tone, pointing a thick finger at the fierce-looking newcomer. "Is going to murder you." Solas groaned almost imperceptibly. 

"So," The new Lavellan approached the group, one arm supporting the staff over her shoulders, the other cocked on her hip. "These assholes are the best the Inquisition could spare to keep my baby sister safe?" she drawled with a smirk. Solas became so pale, he was practically transparent.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think I love Evelyn more than I love my own Quizzie. She's just...I love her so much.
> 
> Shout out to my sister for letting me yank her Warden out of context and cram her in here for the sake of some (eventual) smutty Culleny goodness.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The true extent of Dorian's madness is revealed. Cullen trips several times. Solas is sexually frustrated but that's his own damn fault, isn't it? Ridiculous jumps forward in time. Smut?!?! Skyhold becomes new Lavellan territory because technically they're homeless.

"So, the bald one is him?" Evelyn asked, tossing back a hefty swig of her drink. She and her sister, joined by Sera and Dorian, bent their heads together at a table in the corner of Herald's Rest, each with a heavy clay mug of a heady, strong beer brewed with local wildflowers.

"No, actually, it was me," quipped Dorian with a manic laugh. "They invited me along to make the torturing easier."

Sera pushed his face out of the way and no one else paid his comment any heed. "Yeah, Baldy."

Sera, for all her dislike of the Dalish, was more than sympathetic to Ellana's losses, and couldn't think of a better way to cheer her leader up than completely ruining Solas' life. She and the Inquisitor didn't always get along. While they both took a lot of joy in making trouble for people, archery competitions, and pie, Sera's vocal disdain for all things 'elfy' rubbed Ellana entirely the wrong way, considering she and her sister were both dedicated heart and soul to the preservation and research of their people's culture. Though most of their clan had perished at Wycome, including Keeper Deshanna, Evelyn had stepped into the role of Keeper and lead the survivors to Skyhold to serve under the protective wing of the Inquisition.

Evelyn nodded thoughtfully. "Moody, intellectual, nice butt, bald...definitely your type." Sera and Dorian nodded in agreement.

"How the hell is bald my type?"

"So what efforts have been taken so far, troops?" her older sister asked, ignoring Ellana completely.

"I put lizards in his bedroll, rocks in his soup, stole all of his left socks, and vandalized his mural with _several_ butts and one big ole cock...dunno why, he's not fond of chickens at all, funny thing, that," Sera reported efficiently.

"So _that's_ why he doesn't wear socks!" exclaimed Dorian.

"That's not--" Ellana's protest was cut off when Krem, who had wandered over from his table with the Chargers, poked his head into their circle. 

"I once gave her a little peck on the lips in front of the bastard," he supplied, helpfully. "Make him jealous, you know. Dunno if it worked, but I'd do it again." Ellana shooed him away while he laughed into his mug at the bright flush in her cheeks.

"Dorian?" Evelyn pressed, making note of Krem's generous contribution.

The Tevinter mage began ticking things off on his fingers. "Subtle word to the cook, replaced his paints with colors just the slightest bit off, poked holes in the bottoms of all his cups, and I've been adding a small weight to one of the paint cans every day. At the end of the week, I'll take them all out at once." 

"Why are you people doing this?" begged Ellana.

Sera shook her head in awe. "Dorian...you're a monster," she breathed, admiration shining in her eyes.

"Thank you."

"GUYS!" The Inquisitor slammed her hands down on the table, rattling their mugs. "I didn't ask you here to torture Solas, Evelyn. I needed to know you were okay and I just..." she ran a hand over her face wearily and started to babble. "I just need a break. I've got some crazy thousand year old magister trying to destroy the world, an Inquisition and a Keep to run, everyone wants something from me, there's only so many hours in a day, and my shitty boyfriend dumped me for--I don't know, elf reasons, so I don't even have a shoulder to cry on when it gets tough, which is always, much less get laid, which I desperately need!" 

Evelyn stilled her sister's tearful tirade with a hand on her shoulder. "That's what your big sister is for. You can cry all over me, I'll take some of this bureaucratic shit off your hands, and we'll find you someone to have a good, casual tumble with." She winked a golden eye. Across the room, Krem stood up with a finger in the air only to be silenced by a flying mug to the head courtesy of Iron Bull.

"Thanks Evie," the Inquisitor sniffed, rubbing at the frustrated tears on her cheeks.

"Okay, okay, weepy sister bonding shite an' all," Sera interrupted, flapping her hands. "We haven't even talked about the most important thing! The _important_ thing is, Solas, right?" She leaned in close. "Does the carpets match the drapes?"

 

* * *

 

 

After several more drinks, and a few bawdy songs, Ellana was able to convince Sera to stop vandalizing the mural and return Solas' socks, Dorian to replace the paints and cups, and Krem to behave himself. Everyone sheepishly agreed. With the sun still reasonably high in the sky, the two sisters headed into the Keep to get started on delegating the workload. Walking together, it was easy to see the familial similarities in build, their graceful carriage, and elegant facial structure. Their coloring was the most obvious difference. Evelyn was dark of hair with tanned skin from her travels and from laying out in the sun to study her books, her eyes shrewd and golden like a predatory cat. She was taller and more curvaceous than her younger sibling, and there was a wild sort of maturity in her air. Leading people was no strange thing to her. Contrasted with her pale, nighttime huntress of a sister who kept her brilliantly red hair bound up in complicated braids, small and leanly muscular with wide, vibrant violet eyes, it was impossible to ignore them. Apart, they were lovely. Together they were stunning. The two Dalish women caught the eye of every soldier and servant, and visiting dignitaries murmured about them behind fluttering fans and gloved hands.

As they entered the great hall, Cullen and Varric were on the far end, in heated conversation with a few soldiers. Varric looked intensely irritated, Cullen furious, and the soldiers chastised. 

"Hey, Lavellan!" Varric called, catching sight of the Inquisitor, breaking off the conversation with a sharp gesture to Cullen. Both men started heading toward their leader.

"Yes?" Ellana asked brightly at the same moment as Evelyn demanded "What?!"

Varric halted midstep in confusion. Cullen took one look at the fierce woman standing next to the Inquisitor and promptly tripped over Varric as though he were a poorly placed footstool. The girls watched passively as they tumbled to the floor in a swearing heap.

"Why did you just STOP?" growled the Commander, flailing wildly in an attempt to right himself. 

"Well, GENERALLY--" began Varric tumultuously.

"HEY!" Evelyn shouted, clapping her hands sharply. The men snapped instinctively to attention, then shared a confused look. "What do you want?" the elf enunciated. 

"Some of the men have opinions about the sudden influx of Dalish refugees we received this morning," Varric seethed. "Stupid opinions."

Ellana lifted her brows. "Are they aware of whom they are fighting under?" she asked frostily. Her sister snorted inelegantly. 

"I reminded them of that," Cullen supplied sternly, brown eyes darting between the two women. "As well as what it is we're fighting for. The Inquisition stands for all of Thedas, human or not."

"Well said," Evelyn shifted her weight to one hip with an approving look at the Commander, arms crossed over her chest. He coughed, ears flushing slightly and averted his eyes pointedly from the unlaced neckline of her tunic. The sisters exchanged a glance without turning their heads that communicated approximately four different conversations in half a second. 

"This is my clan," Ellana declared. Her voice wasn't particularly loud, but it was pitched to carry. The cacophony of conversation that usually filled the hall halted immediately. "If anyone has a problem with the Inquisition harboring their leader's family, they may take it up at their own risk with my sister, Keeper Evelyn."

"Hello," Evelyn smiled, giving a brief wave to the people staring around them. 

Cullen and Varric bowed their heads in acknowledgement. Evelyn shot her sister a proud look, then addressed the room again. "I will take personal responsibility for our people. We will do everything we can for the Inquisition to earn our keep. If you have concerns, please," her knuckles cracked. "Do not hesitate to come to me."

Varric smirked. Ellana glowed with pride. Cullen hid an admiring smile and turned to head back to the barracks, sparing a last look at Evelyn. She caught his eye and winked with a sweet little smirk. Cullen's boot caught on the rug.

 

* * *

 

 

Solas avoided the Lavellans like the plague. His dreams were consumed by images of a wolf pack, chased relentlessly by hunters bearing banners picturing a fearsome mage and a weeping archeress, their long hair swirled together as they stood back to back against a blood red backdrop. The sky opened above him like a hungry, gaping maw, green flames raining down on him, burning flesh and fur, friend and foe alike. He would jerk awake to the fading sound of a familiar scream echoing silently throughout his quarters.

Then he would paint. It was his only escape from the nightmares stalking him through the Fade. Luckily, he had plenty of work to do on his precious mural. Between Sera's horrifying vandalism and a mix up with his paints, there was much to be painted over and redone. The work calmed his mind and relaxed his tense, knotted muscles, so he didn't mind having to redo so much. 

He knew what he had to do. He knew he could not drag Ellana into it, but he also knew that she would inevitably entangle herself in it anyway. He knew she was hurting, as he was, and he knew she was rightfully angry and confused, that she needed the very distraction he knew he could no longer provide for her. His body longed for hers, he thirsted for their long conversations, their comfortable silences, and countless mornings spent in lingering kisses and the sweet caresses and touches as they lay tangled in the sheets, their naked bodies bathed in the early sunlight from the open balcony. He missed the foggy lust in her eyes while he pushed her against a wall in a darkened corridor, pressing against her ever harder, her keening little cries of pleasure as he entered her and his tongue laved at her breasts, the ragged gasp as she reached her climax, her sex pulsating in ecstasy while he eagerly lapped at the dripping lips between her legs. He became stiff and hard at the merest recollection of the look in her eyes when she shrugged out of the simple dress she wore when she wasn't fighting, the way she crawled into his lap when he was trying to work with the front lacing of her tunic undone.  He tossed and turned, and groaned, twisting his sheets in frustration as he spilled his seed night after night with no relief. 

And so he painted his frustrations away, willing his body into petulant silence.

 

* * *

 

Evelyn began working immediately. She tackled the bureaucratic mess that had been piling up with ruthless efficiency to rival even Josephine. She wasn't subtle enough to be of much use to the Spymistress, but she made herself very useful to Cullen, arranging small parties of soldiers to deal with matters too trivial to waste the Inquisitor's time on. She gave the quartermaster a budget to stick to and told him to go nuts and not bother them anymore unless there was a shortage of ale. 

"I really cannot emphasize this enough," she spoke slowly, in a measured tone. "Do. Not. Bother. Me. UNLESS there is a shortage of alcohol."

"Of course," stammered the quartermaster. 

"What are you not going to do?"

"B-bother you."

"Unless?"

"There's an ale shortage."

"And if there is an ale shortage, what do you do?"

"Come to you immediately."

"That's my man," she praised, clapping him painfully on the shoulder. 

The only thing Evelyn wasn't permitted to take charge of was putting in appearances for the nobility of Orlais and Ferelden, at the insistence of both Josephine and the Inquisitor.

"You are the least diplomatic person I have ever met," Ellana shook her head.

"What?" Evelyn asked through a mouth of masticated fruit. "Nonsense. I'm delightful."

"You are an elven apostate," Josephine replied patiently, pushing the mage's boots off her desk. "And your manners are insufficient even for a Chasind wedding, much less a casual meeting of dignitaries."

"What's wrong with my manners?" she demanded, dabbing at the fruit juice on her chin with her sleeve. Cullen hid a laugh with a barely believable cough and Josephine rolled her eyes. Cassandra just smirked.

All of these measures served to leave Ellana with more time to focus on Corypheus. The two sisters and Cullen worked together frequently, making battle plans for every possible contingency. Although, Ellana made sure to arrange being called away by Very Important Business, leaving the two of them alone as often as she could. This was both as a favor to them, so they could continue their flirting in peace, and as a favor to herself, to be spared their obnoxious attempts at courtship. Who would have thought a Templar would become so enamoured with an foul-mannered elvhen apostate? 

With more free time to relax and ready herself for the coming battle, Ellana found herself knocking back drinks at the tavern with Sera and the Chargers. It was a good place to avoid having to see her sister making eyes at Cullen, or to suffer through Cullen's poor attempts to be suave, which usually ended with him falling over something, and there were more than enough people willing to buy her a drink.

"I've never seen a man blush so easily as the dear Commander," Vivienne commented delicately one night, a dainty glass of sherry dangling from her fingers. "That's my win, Varric."

"Damnit!" the dwarf cursed. 

"Right up to his ears," laughed Sera. "It's disgusting, innit, those two? Just bone already and spare us the googly eyes." 

"Please, I don't want to think about my sister boning anyone," Ellana groaned, flicking a chip across the wooden table. Sera cackled. "Not even Cullen..."

"Not bad at all, that Cullen..." snickered Dorian as he lay a few cards down. "HA. My win, hand it over, my sweet." Vivienne hissed irritably through her teeth. 

"Rippling shoulders, sweat rolling down a thick, muscled thigh...gasping, whispers in the dark, oh, his horns, pillowy man-bosoms--" 

"THANK YOU COLE," shouted Dorian while Krem choked on his drink and the others at the table burst out laughing. Cole lowered his eyes to his cards and showed them to the chicken sitting at his side next to a golden trophy. The chicken had a medal around her neck and a tiny fowl-sized crown perched on her head. Ellana was rather relieved to see that she hadn't been sacrificed to the Antivan cook-off.

"Well," Vivienne sniffed in amusement. Sera had fallen off her chair and was shrieking with laughter, rolling around under the table.

Ellana smiled. Soon, far too soon, all of this would be gone. She could feel the final battle looming darkly over her like a flaming red shadow. She looked around at her friends, at the bar patrons, the dedicated workers of Skyhold and knew there were many she would never see again, even if she survived. Krem caught her eye and gave her a soft smile, lifting his drink to her in a silent toast. She mirrored his action with a melancholy smile of her own. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Four for you if you got the summary reference. Don't worry I'm keeping track.
> 
> SMUT NEXT CHAPTER. The entire next chapter. All of it.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> With Corypheus defeated, Skyhold celebrates and a surprise awaits Ellana in her bedroom.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HERE THERE BE SMUT finally  
> And an awful lot of dirty elvhen.

Flashes of red, everywhere, crystalline and reaching to the sky with cracked angry fingers. Soot clogging in her lungs. She gasped for air. Duck, roll, firing blindly. Praying it hits. Dragons screaming overhead. Blood, so much blood. The voice of an angry god shaking the world around her. Another shot, please hit. Can't breathe. Soot in her eyes. Fire everywhere. Someone screaming. Dead bodies, eye staring like glass into the endless sky. The world is painted red, red like the lyrium, red like terrible, flaming eyes. Wings rushing over head. Shut up. Stop talking, you ugly bastard. Stone crumbling under her feet. Falling. Solas' hand, reaching. His eyes are so sad. Why are they so sad? The orb...

Dizzy, half out of her mind with exhaustion and blood loss, the Inquisitor suddenly came to. The orb lay smashed at her feet. Corypheus was gone. Solas knelt with the remains of the artifact in his hands.

"Vhenan?" she asked hoarsely. The world was grey and drab around her, and her head spun. "I'm so sorry...it's broken..."

"It's not your fault," he murmured. He set the piece aside, reverently, as though saying goodbye, and stood. "It wasn't supposed to happen this way..." he whispered, turning toward her. "I want you to know...whatever happens, vhenan, you will always have my respect...and my love."

A shout went up, distracting her for only a moment. Cassandra, Cullen, and all the rest of the assault team charged up the hill toward her. Evelyn blasted through all of them and nearly knocked her sister to the ground with the force of her hug. Cullen looked like he would faint from relief as he ran forward and picked both girls up in a bearhug. Sera and Bull were whooping loudly and screaming obscenities into the sky.

"TAKE THAT YOU ROTTEN UGLY BASTARD"

"FUCK YOU AND YOUR DRAGON"

Cassandra was laughing with breathless disbelief and threw herself into the hug as well. Even stoic Vivienne allowed herself to be yanked into the growing group hug, laughing and cheering with the others. Only Cole was silent, overwhelmed to tears by the joy swirling around him. Ellana turned to find Solas and pull him in as well, only to find he had vanished. Even in the midst of her incredible victory, her heart plummeted.

 

* * *

 

 

Skyhold erupted into celebration. Colorful banners were strung from every possible wall, banquet tables groaned in protest under the terrifying amount of food and drink piled on top. Wine and ale flowed freely, thanks to some enthusiastic axe-wielding by the Bull's Chargers. Anyone with any kind of talent for music had broken out their instruments, blasting a cacophony of song throughout the keep. Bonfires sprang up everywhere. Dwarves, humans, and elves all celebrated, dancing and singing and thanking their respective gods and everyone else's as well for good measure. Couples found dark corners to celebrate in alone, or out in the open before the gods and everyone. Varric joked that there would be many a child conceived this night, and wondered if any of them would be named after him.  

Clan Lavellan had erected a makeshift statue of the Inquisitor in the center of the courtyard, made of supple branches twisted together, clothed in spare curtains, with flowers for her hair and facial features. They hoisted her up on their shoulders and danced around the effigy with her, singing old songs of praise to their goddess of the hunt.  

"Sulena Andruil ahnsul Ena'Sal'In leanashast

Sulena Andruil ahnsul Ena'Sal'In leanashast

Ehn arona ma, Andruil, inor venuralas

Ehn arona ma, Andruil, leanathe i druastos

I mar lath, mar raja El'vhen mar shala

Sulena, sulena, sulena

Sulena Andruil ahnsul Ena'Sal'In leanashast

Sulena Andruil ahnsul Ena'Sal'In leanashast

Ehn arona ma, Andruil, inor venuralas

Ehn arona ma, Andruil, leanathe i druastos

I mar lath, mar raja El'vhen mar shala"

Everyone joined in the dancing, some even attempting to sing along to the flattered amusement of the Dalish. Several elves stopped to teach people the words. For a moment, each race of Thedas was united under Skyhold's triumphant banner. Ellana danced with so many people she lost count, her head spinning, voice raised up in song, cheeks flushed bright, shining red, her hair swinging loose around her waist. She and Evelyn taught Cullen the song, held his hands as they taught him to dance, all while he laughed at his own childish attempts, red to his ears.

Solas watched all of this from the darkness of the Inquisitor's balcony, eyes following Ellana's spiraling path as she was passed from partner to partner. Everyone wanted a chance to thank her, to twirl her, to kiss her hands and her cheeks. Cullen picked her up and gave her an enormous, drunken smack on the forehead. Even Varric snuck in for a quick peck on the cheek and a handshake. Krem kept coming back to dance with her. She and Cole did a funny jig while he held his prize-winning chicken above his head. Solas had never seen such an immense, diverse group of people celebrating together in this way. It was truly awe inspiring, the way people cast aside their differences and united under this small, sweet elvhen huntress. Her ecstatic smile lit up the night in a way the countless torches and bonfires could only aspire to.

A sad smile spread his lips. It was nearly time.

 

* * *

 

 

 

Eventually, her exhaustion caught up with her. Ellana made her excuses and retired to her room, leaving her sister in charge. Evelyn spent the rest of the night murmuring soft words against Cullen's ear every time he took a drink, making him choke and turn the color of a good, rich wine. He turned to chastise her, but was arrested each time by her bright, toothy smile. 

Ellana made her way up to her room, listening to the sounds of revelry and merriment from below. She shut the door and wandered to the balcony, looking down and spotting her sister, at it again judging by the spurt of ale issued from Cullen's mouth. She watched them with something close to envy, leaning her cheek on her palm. Solas hadn't been seen by a soul since that final moment after the defeat of Corypheus. Her mind was tortured by a thousand questions, spinning through her mind like sharp little pinwheels. What would happen to the Inquisition how that its mission was fulfilled? Where had Solas gone off to, and why? Would he return? Was he safe? Would her clan remain to make a home at Skyhold, or move on? If they left, would she follow? Or remain? What would be left for her if she did stay?

She nearly jumped out of her skin as a pair of arms encircled her and drew her close. A breath tickled the tip of her pointy ear and a pair of soft lips pressed a gentle kiss against her neck. Ellana tried to turn around, but the strong arms held her firm and close.

"Din, ma'vhenan, hamina." Solas murmured huskily against her skin. The tension in her muscles melted away like snow. 

"Solas," she breathed, her fingers lacing with his. "What are you doing? Why did you leave? What--"

"Tel'dirtha, ar'lath," he whispered, kissing his way up her neck to her jawline. She tilted her head back against his shoulder and let out a shuddering breath. 

"Will you stay?" she asked in a hushed voice.

"I cannot," he responded thickly, voice cracking. "But I couldn't bring myself to leave without at least saying goodbye..."

She squirmed out of his grasp and twisted around, burying her face in his chest. "Please stay..." she begged tearfully. "Or let me come with you. I don't care where you're going or what you'll do there, just please bring me with you."

"Ir abelas, vhenan, where I go, I cannot permit you to follow." He shook his head, long fingers trailing through her hair. 

"Will you come back?" asked Ellana desperately, lifting misty eyes to meet his gentle, sad gaze. 

"Ghi'lan'na'in en'an'sal, I hope someday I will," Solas clutched her closer to him and squeezed his eyes shut, knowing it would never happen.

She took a deep, shaky breath, her fingers twisted tightly in the fabric of his tunic. Solas tilted her chin up and pressed his lips trembling against hers with all the longing the last few months had left him with. Nimble fingers ripped the laces out of her blouse in seconds. "Vhenan," he murmured against her skin as he kissed and bit his way down her neck to her shoulders and he pushed the fabric of her shirt away and cast it aside. The moon lit on her freckled breasts and he caught one of the hard, pink peaks in his mouth, gently rolling it between his tongue and teeth, and his soft, soft lips. Ellana squirmed delightfully under his touch, her nails dragging down his back leaving fire in their wake.The mage wrapped his arms around her middle and hefted her up into his arms easily, locking her legs around his waist. He buried his face between her breasts, kissing every bit of skin he could reach, leaving small red marks in his wake.

"Solas," she moaned softly. "Era'an."

He was quick to comply, carrying her the short distance to the large four poster bed and collapsing onto it with her still in his arms. He broke away long enough to rid himself of his tunic, striping it off with one quick jerk over his head. He fall back upon her hungrily, recapturing her lips with his and pushing his tongue deeply into her mouth. Ellana moaned into the kiss, her fingers pulling impatiently at the laces of his breeches. With a deep chuckle that rolled across her chest, Solas caught at her wrists and pinned them above her head with one large hand. She made an irritable noise that died abruptly in her throat as he ground against her, the hard length of his erection pressing between her legs. 

Together, they re-explored each other's already familiar bodies, marvelling anew at each curve and angle, each gasp and groan of pleasure, the flushed cheeks and dripping sweat. Solas parted from her lips with an obscene pop and returned his attentions to her breasts, suckling at her nipples until they were hard, red, and shining with saliva, his tongue laving over them reverently. One hand effortlessly plucked the laces of her leather leggings open and dipped between her legs, spreading her already soaked labia with long, well-practiced fingers. He whispered something huskily against her ear in unfamiliar Elvhen words. She caught the word 'warm' and something Evelyn had once been slapped by Keeper Deshanna for saying as a child. She assumed it was a filthy word and arched against him as his fingers curled within her, plunging into her a slow, cruel pace. 

Arms still pinned firmly above her, Ellana strained against the strong hand holding her captive with an irate grumble. Solas clicked his tongue at her infuriatingly. "Tel'tath, da'len," he scolded. "Be patient." 

"Din." She wrenched her wrists free and attacked the lacing of his breeches again. Laughing darkly, Solas grabbed one of her wrists and gently bent it behind her, still maintaining his punishingly slow ministrations. Ellana growled in frustration as the pressure on her arm forced her to turn half on her stomach. Solas removed his hand, now sticky and wet, and yanked her pants down around her knees, exposing her cheeks to the cold, moonlit air. With a flat palm, he gave her a stinging slap to the rear, leaving a vivid pink mark. An outraged squeak ripped from Ellana's throat. "Telam'lan," he hissed against her ear. She dragged in a breath trembling with need at the sound. "I told you to be patient. I intend to savor you tonight, vhenan," his voice was pitched low and dangerous as he delivered another resounding smack, then gently ran his fingers over the reddening mark. Ellana whimpered into the sheets, panting and wriggling as she felt her own warm slickness dripping slowly down a thick thigh. She let out a shuddering groan as Solas followed the line of it upward with a slim finger, clicking his tongue again. "Sildela'lan," he purred heavily. "You love this don't you, filthy girl?" 

"Yes," she gasped as he slipped his middle finger back into the dripping hot folds of her cunt. "Isala ma, vhenan, please." 

"Not yet, da'len," he scolded, drawing the digit out maddeningly slow and then gently smacking the tiny swollen bud of her clit. She drew in a sharp breath and let it out in a long, shuddering sigh.

Solas flipped her back over, looking straight into her eyes, filmed over with lust. "Will you behave?" he asked coyly, perched over her, mouth inches away from her heat. He licked a fiery line up her thigh. 

"Yes," she gasped. "Yes, anything."

"Anything?" the mage raised his eyebrows mischievously. "My, my, we are desperate to be fucked, aren't we?" He dragged his words out precisely. Ellana made another irritated noise and squirmed. His tongue flicked out against her clit and she froze, back arching. His mouth came down over her gently at first, suckling at each labia, just barely grazing his teeth over her. Then his teeth flashed over her clit and she let out a strangled cry, hips bucking.

"You make such pretty sounds when I torture you, vhenan," Solas murmured teasingly against her wetness. She whimpered again at the feel of his breath whispering over her most intimate areas, fingers twisting in the sheets around her, one fist shoving the blanket into her mouth and biting down hard. Without even looking, Solas reached blindly up and yanked the sheet out of her mouth to her vocal disagreement. He laced his fingers with hers and held her hands captive in his own, pressed against her hips while he rolled her clit between his tongue and teeth. She writhed beautifully beneath him, locking a knee over his neck and leaving small red crescents on the backs of his hands. A stream of rough, hoarse Elvish left her throat, half remembered curses and prayers to gods whose names she didn't know that didn't quite make sense. Solas choked on a laugh, muffled by his work between her legs.

"Vhenan, I don't believe that means quite what you think it does," he chuckled breathlessly. 

Ellana spat something back at him that translated roughly to 'eat a dick, Solas'.

"I'd rather not," he replied arching a brow at her. He lifted himself up on hands and knees and crept predatorily up his lover's lithe body and straddled her, guiding her hands up his torso. "I think you might be better suited to that particular task."

She obediently ran her fingers over the lightly toned muscles of his chest and stomach, scraping her round nails over the pale skin. A hiss escaped between his teeth. Ellana dragged her hands purposefully down his stomach, tracing the dark trail of coarse, wiry hair leading below his belt. Solas drew in a shuddering breath, his head rolling back onto his shoulders. He cursed silently as she pulled eagerly at the cloth belt, erection throbbing hotly against her through the rough fabric of his trousers. She loosened the belt and plucked the lacing free with trembling fingers. Solas helped her pull the garment down until he could kick impatiently free. He took hold of his cock in one hand as it sprung free, and held it ready for Ellana. A gem of precum glistened on the swollen head of his penis, and she licked it off eagerly before engulfing him in her hot, waiting mouth. Solas groaned deeply and ran his hands through her long, red hair, knotting his fingers in it and urging her forward. She bobbed her head up and down over the head, her tongue running wetly over it, lips pulling and sucking hard before she took him in fully. Solas bit back a loud gasp as she sucked, moving her head up and down at a steady pace. Curses dripped fluently from his lips.

"Tel'dian ar'lath," he begged harshly. She hummed in compliance around the thickness of his cock and plunged him against the back of her throat. "Shit!" he hissed, doubling over. Ellana laughed around him and let him fall out of her mouth, wet and shining. Solas pushed her back against the pillows once more and hooked her legs around his hips.

"Solas, please," she begged as he brought his lips crushing against hers and thrust into her hot slickness. She cried out against him, clinging for dear life to his broad back as he plunged deeper and deeper with each rough thrust, groaning into their kiss with each wet gush of the orgasm ripping through her. Her panting breath was hot against his lips. He bit at hers and dragged a long cry of ecstasy from her ragged throat. He whispered filthy, loving words against her, ramming her hips hard and grinding himself against her overly sensitive clit. Ellana threw her head back, dragging loud, thirsty breaths into her burning lungs. Another orgasm shuddered through her, Solas moaning as the warm wetness dripped down his trembling thighs. His muscles tenses, and he gave one last shattered gasp, spilling himself fully inside of her. He rocked against her hips as their rode out their orgasms, clutching each other tightly and panting helplessly as the last waves rolled through them. 

 

* * *

 

 

Solas traced the curved line of his lover's cheek reverently in the half-dark of her room. The moon shone down on them from behind the gauzy balcony curtains, making Ellana's freckled skin glow like some ethereal creature of legend. Mythal's vallaslin gleamed faintly on her forehead and the corners of her eyes. Something old and ancient stirred in him, separate but not. He pushed the feeling down, tracing the marks that branded her in the service of Mythal, feeling discomforted by what that now meant for him. It was wrong. She should have let him removed them when he had offered her the chance, but he knew she would never relinquish the marks. She would wear them proudly as she defied the gods themselves, laughing to herself over the irony as she crushed the status quo under her heel. 

"Ar lath ma," he whispered to her sleeping form, pressing a kiss to her forehead. He rose, and slowly pulled his clothes back on. The mage turned to gaze at Ellana, his heart breaking, knowing the pain she would feel when she awoke the next morning, alone. "Ma serannas, vhenan," he choked out as he made his way to the balcony. "Fen'harel ma ghilana." 

He was gone.

 

__

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Elvhen song loosely translated from "When You Believe" from the Prince of Egypt soundtrack because Jewish elves make my little heart sing. Elvish thanks to fenxshiral for their AMAZING work with the Elvhen conlang.  
> Sulena Andruil ahnsul ena'sal'in leanashast - (I will) sing to Andruil for she has triumphed gloriously  
> Ehn arona ma, Andruil, inor venuralas - Who is like you, Andruil, among the gods  
> Ehn arona ma, Andruil, leanathe i druastos - Who is like you, Andruil, splendid in holiness  
> I mar lath, mar raja El'vhen mar shala - In your love, you lead the people you saved
> 
> Other elvish phrases also courtesy of fenxshiral:  
> Din - No  
> Hamina - relax  
> Tel'dirtha - don't speak  
> ar'lath - My love  
> ir abelas - I'm sorry  
> Ghi'lan'na'in en'an'sal - Ghi'lan'na'in's blessing (goddess of guidance)  
> Era'an - bed (lit. sleeping/dreaming place)  
> tel'tath - not yet  
> da'len - child/little one  
> telam'lan - bad girl  
> sidela'lan - naughty girl  
> Isala ma - (I) Need/lust for you  
> Tel'dian - Don't stop  
> Thanks for reading! Please comment or message me with any questions, concerns, or constructive critiques.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sick af, my PS4 control is broken and I can't afford a new one, so I can't play Inquisition for the billionth time.  
> AND SO I WRITE.

"Vanished without a trace, I'm afraid," Leliana informed the Inquisitor unhappily. "Not a thing since the battle against Corypheus, and on top of it, several of my best agents seem to have gone missing around the same time. Not dead, just...gone," the spymistress mused with suspicion in her eyes. "I'm not sure what to make of it."

Ellana's shoulders slumped. "Thank you anyway." 

"I'm sorry, Inquisitor. I know you were...close at one time. This must be difficult for you to process." 

The shorter woman shook her head ruefully. "I had hoped...but, I already knew he wouldn't stay." She swallowed back tears with an effort. Her friend put out a hand to rub her arm in sympathy, then turned and left the grieving huntress to have some time to herself.

The weeks had been dragging by slowly. There was still plenty to do, and she kept herself as busy as she could; going on demon sweeps across Thedas, closing any remaining rifts, helping her sister with clan business, but she went through the motions as if through a slow moving fog. Most evenings she spent at the tavern, tossing back drinks with the Chargers and Sera, watching as her friends slowly drifted off to their own business now that Corypheus had been blasted into the Fade. Vivienne, understandably, was the first to go. She had plenty to do arranging Duke Bastien's estate, and reorganizing the Orlesian Circle. She did leave with the promise to use all her influence to track down Solas, however, which was comforting. Varric was soon called back to Kirkwall, hounded by his editor. She had thought Cole had vanished as well, but he returned again one day with another medal around his chicken's neck. Ellana wasn't sure what exactly she kept winning prizes for, but whatever it was, she was apparently very good at it. Blackwall had long since headed off with what remained of the Grey Wardens. Dorian spent most of his time dodging pointed letters from Tevinter and pelting the messengers bearing them with whatever happened to be on hand at the moment, so she knew it was only a matter of time before he left. The Chargers seemed eager to be off as well, but Iron Bull and Krem were determined to stretch their stay as long as they could manage. Sera was restless, too, but was happy enough to stay as long as Dagna did. 

And as time ticked forward, Ellana's mingled concern and bitterness toward Solas grew. 

 

* * *

 

 

"I'm worried about her," Evelyn muttered one day, sitting crosslegged on top of a chess table, watching her sister taking a turn around the courtyard with Cremisius, laughing over some inane story. The mercenary always did his best to keep the Inquisitor in high spirits with a seemingly endless supply of absurd tales and a full hipflask. 

"I am, too." Cullen, some work spread out on the table next to her, tapped his quill distractedly. He had meant to do his paperwork outside to take advantage of the nice weather, but for some reason or other wasn't getting much done. He cursed when the tip of his quill split. "I tried to convince Krem to catch her on the rebound, but he keeps insisting they're 'just friends'." He made finger quotes with the broken quill in his hand and rolled his eyes. "My arse, he just can't decide if he likes her or that pretty bard, what do they call her?"

"Maryden? She's lovely," supplied Evelyn. A smile twitched at her lips as Ellana doubled over with laughter, clutching Krem's arm for support. He had a hint of rose spreading across his dark cheeks. 

"Just friends," Cullen repeated skeptically, reaching for a new pen.  

"Just friends like you and I are just friends, I'm sure." Evelyn snorted, hopping off the table and stretching. Cullen choked, cheeks burning. "Don't push her," the mage instructed before he could start his babbling protests that nothing had happened between them yet, although certainly--wait had he said yet, what he meant was--etc etc. "She needs our support more than she needs a new boyfriend. Though, if I had to pick one...Anyway, keep me updated." She patted the commander smartly on the cheek and made to leave.

Cullen stood so abruptly, he nearly toppled over the desk. "Er--shall we--that is, would you like to...go have a drink? Together?" he stammered. 

"Another time, I promise. Clan business," the Keeper shrugged, genuine disappointment in her eyes. It faded into a mischievous smirk fairly quick, however. "Maybe you could bring a bottle of wine by my quarters later tonight?" Cullen choked on his response as she winked and strolled off.

 

* * *

 

 

"Skyhold is ours, why should we leave it?" Evelyn demanded harshly. A meeting hall had been set aside for private use by Clan Lavellan, and every member was gathered around a makeshift podium where the Keeper and the Inquisitor stood, including a few clanless refugees who had been welcomed into the fold. 

"You mean it's the Inquisitions!" a tall, male elf cried in an accusative voice. "What happens when they disband, or tire of us?" 

"Skyhold is held in my name, Isenril," argued Ellana. "I have already had a letter from Ferelden's king stating that Skyhold is to remain under my name, even if the Inquisition were to disband, which we have no plans to."

"And what if Orlais decides to assert that Skyhold falls within their borders and not Ferelden's?" Isenril threw back angrily.

"Skyhold falls between the borders of both these nations," she explained wearily. "Orlais cannot very well go against our right to ownership of the fortress or the surrounding lands attached to it without risking a border dispute with Ferelden."

"And besides which, I believe Ambassador Briala still owes the Inquisitor a large, personal debt," a heavily accented voice pointed out from the back.

"Stay out of this, tor'alin!"

"Bite me, masa'ingava," the other elf slung back merrily.

"Both of you stop it or I'll put you in separate corners," Evelyn snapped matron-like. "Our people haven't had our own land since the fall of Arlathan. This could be the first step toward reclaiming our heritage, reclaiming our place in the world. Isn't that what all Dalish strive for? We don't have to be wandering nomads anymore, treated no better than vermin. We have a _home_. How could you be willing to through such a blessing away, Isenril?" 

There were murmurs among the remaining Lavellans and refugees, some of awe, some of skepticism, but there was no doubt that the Keeper's words had caused a stir.

"And what of those like myself, who are not of your clan?" asked the dark-skinned newcomer, an odd twinkle in his eye. 

"We are all one people," Ellana declared. "You may choose to keep your clan name and rebuild yourselves under our protection, or you may join clan Lavellan if it pleases you, or petition another clan here for membership. Or you may leave. But if you choose to call Skyhold your home, we will not turn you out." Many elves had chosen already to leave, disappearing wordlessly in the night, leaving stragglers of many different clans behind, and a handful of city elves or escaped slaves from Tevinter. 

"And shall we let just anyone into our clan?" demanded Isenril. Evelyn gave her sister an exasperated look. "Any rabble that walks by? Will we invite dwarves and humans into the clan next? Templars even?" he gave Evelyn a pointed glare.

"Fuck you, that's what," she snapped without missing a beat, and to the surprised outcry of many of the elders. Ellana pursed her lips, eyes widening awkwardly. It wasn't her place to question the way her sister ran things, though occasionally she wished the Keeper would at least try to be more diplomatic. For all her wisdom, she could be terribly brash.

"Any other questions?" Ellana chirped after a moment. No one stirred, aside from the vocal newcomer in the back of the room, who was in the middle of a laughing fit. "Good. Um. Dismissed. Now. Please."

The elves began filing out, muttering and murmuring among themselves. The newcomer pushed his way forward and kissed Evelyn's hand enthusiastically, before hurrying away again, chuckling to himself. He wore a hooded scarf that hid most of his features, and spoke in a thick Antivan accent, but he had shown up one night with only a dagger at his waist and a substantial amount of gold as a peace offering, in exchange for a warm bed and some ale. Apparently, he had decided to stay.

The sister turned to each other and engaged in a silent conversation of minute facial expressions and exasperated gestures. Cullen entered the room, raising an eyebrow at the glare Isenril shot at him on the way out. He had abandoned his armor at some point, but kept his coat on over a burgundy tunic.

"Tough meeting?" he asked as he approached. 

Evelyn growled. "Some dissent in the ranks," she scathed. 

"Need someone to take care of it?"

The Keeper shook her head. "No. We take care of our own. I just need to...not lose my temper." Both Ellana and Cullen snorted emphatically. "Besides, your involvement would just drive his point home...ugly little bastard."

"Thanks though, beefcake," teased the Inquisitor. Evelyn did a poor job of trying not to laugh while Cullen shook his head over the nickname.

"Alright, alright. I'm not here to be the butt of your jokes--"

"Then how about--" 

"I am here," the commander raised his voice over Evelyn's. "To ask for Leliana if any of the refugees or clanspeople might have any idea why so many elves have been disappearing lately."

Both women shook their heads. "If one of our people does know something, they aren't talking. We've already asked." Ellana sighed heavily. "It's troubling. I worry for all our people..."

"We'll keep pushing for information," he assured them. "Someone has to know something..."

"Thank you, Commander," Evelyn said with a wily smile. Her younger sister edged out of the room with a knowing smile, making a vague excuse about a scouting excursion with Krem. 

As the door swung shut, Evelyn moved closer to Cullen, trailing a finger from Cullen's collarbone down the front of his tunic, nails scraping across the loosely tied laces. "Now, how about that wine?" she purred.

"Evelyn, I..." began the commander, taking her hand abruptly. "I hope you know...I've considered your sister family for some time now...like a sister," he amended before his meaning could be mistaken. "Reminds me of my own siblings, you know...? I've a younger sister around her age. Rosalie. Red hair, short, sweet. Willfully throws herself into dangerous situations with a gleeful abandon that is truly terrifying to behold. You understand.

Anyhow...I...have come to see you as a kind of family too..."

"Is this a proposal?" Evelyn asked, waggling her eyebrows as she rested her other hand against his bristly cheek.

"That's--I don't...I mean of course I want--wait, I meant--damnit I did not come here to be teased!" he exclaimed over the mage's laughter.

"I'm glad you care so much about us," she chuckled, lacing her fingers around his neck and lifting on her toes to kiss his cheek. "About me." She kissed the scar over his mouth. Taking the invitation, he turned and captured her lips with his own, holding her close around the waist, fingers digging into her soft hips. "Now, about that wine..." the woman murmured, laughing against his lips. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No smuttiness this chapter. Next one for sure has some, along with quite a surprise.  
> Elvish as always courtesy of fenxshiral!  
> Tor'alin - outsider  
> masa'ingava - buttscratcher  
>   
> Who ever could this mysterious cloaked elf be? 8D  
>   
> Thanks for reading! Please comment or message me with any questions, concerns, or constructive critiques.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cullen's turn!  
> And a rather surprising...surprise?

Winston nickered happily, skipping over jutting rocks and gnarly tree roots with effortless grace, followed closely by Krem's shaggy, stout draught horse. They were scouting a densely wooded area on the far side of the keep, the ground crusted with a fresh layer of frost. Krem had exchanged his heavy plate for lighter leather armor and a thick, fur-lined cloak, the one luxury he had allowed himself from his increased paycheck under the Inquisition. Ellana wore a similar cloak, her own leathers strapped on over a thick gown of grey wool, its skirt pleated generously at the front and back to allow her to sit astride comfortably. The pair rode with a careful eye on their path, still managing to exchange stories and friendly jabs.

Back at Skyhold, Sera had taken it upon herself to form what she called "The Inquisithingy Coalition to Make Elly Feel Not-Like-Shite 'n' Stuff", and then immediately abdicated leadership and declared Krem to be in charge. Unable to argue, he had taken it upon himself to keep her company whenever she had free time with any number of inane and unnecessary scouting trips, but also to keep away any undesirables, of which there were many. Some overzealous fans had taken to stalking the Inquisitor throughout the keep, including a few odd cults that had popped up, and more than enough journalists looking for a scandal. Krem found that he quite enjoyed figuring out creative new ways to dispose of these trespassers. He'd started by simply hurling them off the battlements, but that had gotten boring fast. Most recently, he had arranged to slingshot a dwarven tabloid writer over the walls using The Iron Bull's horns. That hadn't ended well. Josephine had forced him to write a lengthy apology to the Writer's Guild and taken the dental expenses out of his pay.

Of course, he hadn't told the Inquisitor any of this. She had enough on her plate, and didn't need any more stress on top of it. So, until she was feeling better, Krem was more than happy to make her laugh, fill her cup, and tackle weird cultists through two story windows behind her back.

"So, that's basically why Evelyn isn't allowed in Neverra anymore..." the archer finished.

Krem laughed, slapping his knee. "I can't believe," he gasped. "she actually convinced an eighty-seven-year-old duchess to get a Genlock tattooed on her--"

"ARSE!!!" Ellana suddenly exclaimed, clutching her stomach and doubling over in her saddle.

"That, yes."

"No, you dingbat!" the woman wheezed, one hand still clutching her stomach. The fingers of her other hand fumbled with Winston's reins, trying to turn him. The hart was shifting and hooting in distress, stomping a cloven hoof on the icy ground.

"Ell?" Krem leaped off his horse and rushed to her side, ducking away from Winston's angry teeth. He threw his arms around the Inquisitor's waist and gently pulled her out of the saddle while the beast kicked and hollered at him. "What's wrong, what happened?" He demanded, panic grasping his chest as he lowered her gently onto the ground, well away from the foul-tempered hart. "Did That Asshole--"

"No," she protested, gasping in pain. "My stomach...just started hurting...like a dagger in my...I don't know, spleen or something. What's a spleen?"

Krem prodded around her lower abdomen, but it was hard to feel anything over the thick leather. He made quick work of the laces, then pulled the armor loose enough to cram his arm down the front of her dress. "Does it hurt if I push?" he asked, putting pressure on various parts of her stomach.

"No."

"Does it hurt if I take my hand away?"

"No. It just hurts," she moaned. Sweat beaded on Krem's forehead. There was no cut, no bleeding, and nothing seemed bruised. "You need a healer...can you ride?" he asked breathlessly.

She shook her head. "Not on my own..." The Inquisitor groaned as he scooped her up into his arms easily and hefted her up into his saddle with great care. She clutched the saddlehorn for support while Krem dodged a vicious nip from Ser Winston, seized his reins, and tied them to the bridle of his own horse before swinging himself up behind Ellana. With one hand guiding the draught horse, he gave it a good kick to spur it forward, holding Ellana tightly around the waist with his other hand, holding her close against his chest. "You're safe with me, Your Worship," he assured her as he navigated the quickest route back to Skyhold. "You'll be alright..."

 

* * *

 

 

"And THAT, my dear commander, is why I have thirty-seven warrants for my arrest in Nevarra," Evelyn concluded, leaning against a bookcase in Cullen's office.

"Did you really ride a nugalope through the market in your skivs?" laughed Cullen, watching her go through the shelves while he leaned on his desk.

"Yep. Hell of a time getting a nugalope into a bra, let me tell you," she muttered, thoughtfully opening a book and shuffling through it. This earned her another bark of laughter from the commander. "My point is, don't feel bad about the lyrium crap." She put the book back and turned to him. "Take it from someone who doesn't have a choice, you're better off without it."

"How exactly did that story relate to lyrium withdrawals?" he asked, raising an eyebrow.

She paused. "I...do not remember," she admitted. "But it took your mind off it for a while didn't it?"

He laughed again. "It did. But I believe I can think of better ways to take my mind off things than that." He turned to pick something up from his desk, and when he faced Evelyn again, he found her close enough that her breasts nearly brushed against his chest. "I..." he stammered weakly, holding up his empty wine glass. "I meant more wine..."

"Funny," she replied, plucking the glass from his fingers and putting it back on the desk. "That's not what I had in mind." She grabbed him by the front of the shirt and pulled. His hands came around her waist as their lips crashed together with a muffled exclamation. For all his charming befuddlement, however, he was remarkably efficient when called to action. Without a second more to think about it, he seized the elvhen mage by the buttocks and hefted her up easily onto his hips, her legs wrapping around him naturally, and pushed her up against the wall, rocking against her eagerly. She let out a pleasantly surprised gasp. "Is that a dagger in your pocket," she managed to joke breathlessly. "Or are you just happy to see me?"

"Is--what?" Cullen panted.

"Nevermind." Her fingers flew to his belt and began tugging the metal buckle free. 

"Wait, the door-- the windows--" he stammered, craning around to peek out the windows, thrown open to let in the cool night air. Evelyn worked swiftly, metal clinking as she rid him of the belt and tore away the front lacing of his breeches. "Maker..." the man groaned as he was suddenly exposed to the crisp night. He moved her long tunic out of the way and fumbled under her skirt, pushing the heavy fabric up over her knees. "Ah...you're..." he coughed. "Not wearing any knickers...well, then." Cullen cleared his throat while his partner grinned wickedly and recaptured his lips hungrily.

"I'm nothing if not efficient," she reminded him, voice low and husky. "And rather skilled at swordplay, for a mage..."

"I...did you just--how many of these jokes do you have?" Cullen demanded a bit incredulously.

"I've been saving these for months, shut up." 

"Months--" the Commander's surprised gasp cut into a strangled groan as she took his length into her hand and pushed the swollen head against her already moist entrance. "Oh Maker," he breathed, attacking her neck with a fervor of biting kisses. "That's...warm..." He pushed further into her and began rolling his hips in a slow, sensual pace. One hand crept up under her tunic to fondle a large,  soft breast, tweaking the nipple until it became hard and hot beneath his callused fingers. His other hand found her clit and struck a large thumb against it, moving in hurried circles as he plunged deeper into her. Her quiet sighs and gasps became loud moans. She buried her face in his shoulder, laughing as he shushed her frantically. An absurdly long elvhen curse was muffled against his neck as she bit back her laughter and noisy cries.

"What does that mean?" panted Cullen.

"Fuck."

"Fantastic." He shifted her up higher on his hips and drove himself up into her, hard. She bit down on her lips until they were red and swollen and just begging to be kissed. Cullen ran his tongue over them, gasping her name as her teeth came down on his lower lip, his hips bucking involuntarily as he groaned into a thirsty kiss. Her orgasm ran slick and warm down his thighs. She bit down possessively on his neck and he gasped as he felt himself cum with a spasm of muscle. "Maker's mercy," he cried out as his cock throbbed with release, emptying into her. He let out a long, relieved groan as their orgasms ebbed, Evelyn giggling against his flushed skin, her fingers tangled in his hair. He hadn't expected her to be so very adorable after all her catty seductions, but she held him close, head resting on his shoulder while he rode out his orgasm, stroking his hair and peppering his neck with sweet kisses. 

"Evelyn..." he murmured, stroking her back. "I--"

"COMMANDER!"

"WHAT!?" He roared, dropping the mage. He hurriedly crammed himself back into his pants and rounded furiously on the poor sod of a messenger who burst in unannounced. Evelyn landed on her feet, more shocked at how little she managed to stumble from being dropped at such a height than she was at the interruption. "WHAT in the Maker's name could you POSSIBLY want at this hour, Daniel?!"

Daniel gaped openly at the undone laces of his commander's breeches, the discarded belt, and their disheveled clothes, his entire face beet red.

"DANIEL!" shouted Cullen.

"YES SER!!!" the boy snapped to attention. "It's actually for Keeper Lavellan, someone said she was with you, sir!"

"For me?" Evelyn stepped forward, eyebrows knitted in concern. "What's happened?"

"It's yer sister, ser--madam--Lieutenant Cremisius just carried 'er in yellin' 'bout a healer."

Evelyn didn't wait to hear anymore, bolting from the tower office with Cullen close behind her.

 

* * *

 

 

Krem paced the walkway beneath the Inquisitor's room. The surgeon and an elvhen healer were tending to her, and Morrigan, still not returned to Orlais, had shoved her way in as well before slamming the door in his face. Even though he knew she was in good hands, Krem couldn't make himself sit still until he knew for certain she was alright.

"Ulcer...food poisoning...stigmata...lady business...actual poisoning...bad case of gas..." he mumbled as he paced, trying to think of every possible explanation for her sudden illness. A sudden commotion downstairs broke his train of thought. The crash of the front doors being thrown open, visiting nobility shrieking and squealing in shock, the unmistakable sound of something delicate and very expensive shattering, immediately followed by a splintering crack and a long groan that could only be the sound of a scaffold collapsing. Feet pounded the stone stairs, the steps growing ominously closer, accompanied by a horrifying bellow.

"WHERE IS MY SISTER?!" thundered Evelyn, blasting the stairwell door to bits with a spurt of energy from her hand. Krem wisely leaped to the side as she charged up the walkway, followed by a wheezing Cullen and a fretful Josephine, and tore into the Inquisitor's room.

"What in the names of the gods--" Morrigan was shouting. Krem took his chance and bolted after the parade of anxiety before anyone could think to stop him.

"Elly!!!" the Keeper was wailing as he rounded the stairs. She had thrown herself artfully over her sister's lap, who was sitting upright in bed, in her nightdress and robe, looking perfectly fine, if confused. Her hair was undone, tumbling over her shoulder, curling thickly around her cheeks. Cullen was braced against the wall, gasping for breath, his fur collar looking oddly singed. Josephine stood to the side demanding a full report from the healers and Morrigan.

"Really, she's perfectly fine," the witch was saying in exasperation.

The elvhen healer was nodding in agreement. "Sharp stomach pains are perfectly normal in this stage, but she really shouldn't be riding in her condition."

"In WHAT condition?!" shrieked Josephine. "WHAT stage? Why is this normal?!" The healer took a politely timid step back.

"Oh for heaven's sake, all of you OUT!" Morrigan barked, pushing the surgeon and healer toward the door, casting a reproachful look at Evelyn, wailing dramatically despite her sister's obvious health. "This is absurd...stop that screaming! Cullen, what-ever-your-name-is, get out! Josephine for heaven's sake will you stop a breathe for a moment?" 

"I'm not leaving until you tell us what's wrong with Ell--I mean, Her Worship," insisted Krem. Cullen put a finger up in a agreement, still trying to catch his breath from the mad race through the keep. 

"I'm okay..." Ellana piped up, patting her sister absently on the head as the grown woman rolled in mock anguish. She was apparently so relieved to find her Ellana safe and in one piece that she had decided to become an actress.

"She's FINE." Morrigan snapped. "All she needs is some peace and quiet. And no more riding for some time."

"Why can't she ride?" Krem demanded. "What happened to her?"

"Oh..." Josephine squeaked, hands going to her lips. Evelyn had stopped her rolling and now laid still, eyes widening. Cullen wheezed again.

"The Inquisitor is with child," sighed Morrigan. There was a long, silent pause.

"Now," continued Morrigan at length. "If you would all kindly get the hell out--" 

All hell broke loose. Josephine let out a shrill squeal and began bouncing around, clapping her hands. Evelyn jumped to her feet shrieking expletives. Cullen cursed and punched the wall, then howled angrily and cradled his bruised knuckles. Krem simply gaped in shock while Josephine and Evelyn went on impassioned tirades, Morrigan shaking her head in exasperated defeat. 

"WHO--" Josephine cried.

"BALD-ASS RAT BASTARD!" roared Evelyn.

"WHAT?!"

"I'LL RIP HIS HEAD OFF AND SHOVE IT--"

"BUT HOW?!?--wait, nevermind, I don't need to know that..."

"TIE HIM TO A MENSTRUATING DRAGON--"

"WHAT DO WE DO?!"

"AND IT'LL BE THE BEST GODDAMN BABYSHOWER IN THEDAS!!"

"Where do you even buy baby clothes?"

"CULLEN!" Evelyn shouted.

"Yes?" he replied weakly, having sunk into a nearby chair and looking the part of a man who wanted to escape this awkwardness as soon as possible. 

"Guard my sister!" she declared, pacing angrily. 

"Where are you going?" he asked, sounding weary. 

"To commit a murder!" With that she gave her sister a fierce hug and a kiss on the forehead and stormed out of the room, slamming the door shut behind her with a resounding 'bang'.

There was another drawn out, extremely awkward, mind-numbing silence. Cullen shifted slightly in his chair, which squeaked softly. The tiny noise resulted in a rather absurd echo in the stone-walled room. Krem's armor creaked as he lifted a hand to scratch the back of his head. Ellana cleared her throat. She wiggled her feet a bit, the linens rustling. Josephine sneezed quietly. Morrigan tapped her foot in irritation. 

"RIGHT!" Josephine clapped her hands together suddenly. "I have a baby shower to plan. Ellana, congratulations." She bustled over to hug the Inquisitor, then hurried down the stairs, already murmuring plans to herself. Morrigan glared daggers at Cullen and Krem.

"I need a drink," Cullen declared, standing up. "Inquisitor--oh, I suppose you can't..."

"Some tea would be nice," she suggested with a grateful smile.

"Yes. Well." He cleared his throat. "Krem, please guard her in my place, as I find myself in desperate need of...to...not be...here."

"Yes, Commander."

"I'll have some ale sent up for you along with Her Worship's tea."

"Thank you, Ser."

"NOW GET OUT," barked Morrigan.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Who am I kidding y'all probably saw that coming ten miles away.  
>   
> Thanks for reading! Please comment or message me with any questions, concerns, or constructive critiques.


	7. Chapter 7

"No."

"But Inquisitor, please..."

"No."

"If you would just--"

"No." Ellana sat at the war table, arms crossed, a stubborn look furrowing her brow. Josephine looked to the others for support.

Cullen pushed away from the table, hands up. "I want no part of any of this," he declared, walking to a corner of the room. "This whole thing is a terrible idea, and I won't be party to it."

"I agree, this should be the Inquisitor's choice, not something to be decided by a committee," Cassandra insisted. "I don't see the need for our interference in this matter."

"The public eye is still very much concerned with the Inquisition," Josephine explained patiently. "If we are to retain our autonomy, we must take every care to avoid a scandal. We've already received enough queries from the nobility of Orlais and Ferelden to know that they expect the Inquisitor to marry someone of influence. They will not look kindly upon your union of a renegade apostate, and even less so on a child born out of wedlock. Inquisitor, you MUST marry before the child is born, and I don't believe we can afford to wait for your sister to drag Solas' sorry ass--my apologies-- back to Skyhold." The Ambassador took a deep breath at the end of her speech. Ellana glared darkly at the smooth grain of the table. Cullen shook his head irritably, and Cassandra simply sighed. 

"I save all of Thedas single handedly, literally," the elf fumed, waving the hand bearing the Anchor around in the air. "And some uppity dowagers think they're entitled to an opinion on anything I do with my life? After what I've done for these people, if I want to pop out an apostate's bastard, I feel like I've earned that right." Cullen snorted appreciatively.

"I never said it was right, or fair," Josephine replied sympathetically. "And I will not force this decision upon you. But please at least consider it, for your sake as well as the Inquisition's. I have compiled a list of potential candidates I think would be suitable enough to preserve your reputation, in the event that Evelyn cannot find Solas...or if she murders him..." The ambassador slid a neatly organized sheaf of paper across the table. A quick glance showed that it was organized by suitability, determined by a combination of family lines, wealth, connections, history of family illness, whether their mother was alive or not, and appearance. There were even color coded graphs. 

Cassandra peeked over the Inquisitor's shoulder at the packet. "This is...actually very impressive..." she admitted. 

Cullen moved over to take a look as well and burst out laughing. "Oh no. We have got to go read this outloud in the tavern. I can think of at least seven people that will laugh themselves into a coma." 

"What's wrong with my list?" fretted Josephine.

 

* * *

 

 

"Well, to start with," Cullen snorted, surrounded by their friends in Herald's Rest. Ellana sat on top of the table next to him, Krem leaning on her other side. "I'M at the top of the list. Not exactly the way I wanted to join the family." 

"I will give you twenty sovreigns if you can say that in front of Evelyn without tripping or choking," Ellana quipped over a burst of laughter. Cullen flushed and moved on to the next page. 

"This is very thorough...there's a diagram. Of...my bottom?" Cullen shot Josephine a scandalized look, but she only shrugged.

"I had to approach this from every angle," she said, to riotous laughter and some scattered applause.

Sera grabbed the sheaf and thumbed through it eagerly. "AW! Josie, what the hell?! Where am I?! I want to see a diagram of my arse!" she shouted.

"Biology does not work that way Sera--"

"SO?!"

"Wait, it gets better," Cullen snatched it back, flipping through the pages. "Look, Dorian's in it!"

Both Ellana and Dorian exploded into hysterical laughter, clutching each other for support. Josephine tried to defend herself, but they stopped her and made her wait until they had finished laughing, then laughed again.

"Don't you think Harrit is a bit...old for the Inquisitor?" Cassandra asked, turning a page over Cullen's shoulder. 

Josephine faltered, blushing a bit. "I-...Evelyn said...The Inquisitor fancies...bald men..."

Another burst of laughter. Ellana was clutching her stomach and nearly in tears. "Oh, creators Josie, I love you..." she gasped, wiping her eyes. 

"Hey..." Iron Bull interrupted, with something close to a pout on his rugged face. "Why am I so far back?"

"Well--you're Tal-Vashoth now...but look how well you scored in appearance!" she pointed at an impressive-looking graph. 

"Hmph...is that my--"

"Yes, don't speak of it."

"Oh, I did not need to see any of that..." Cullen groaned, covering his eyes. 

Krem snorted, bumping shoulders with the Inquisitor. "I've seen too much of that. Boss likes to sleep eh....'au naturale'," he explained. "Aaaand, he sleep walks. It's. Great." He did not look thrilled in the least. Dorian, on the other hand, looked extremely interested, and snatched the page away gleefully.

"Hey." Bull jabbed a finger at his lieutenant. "Shut up."

Becoming serious for a moment, Ellana flipped through the pages thoughtfully. There were certainly a good number of eligible bachelors, along with several more dubious candidates, but she shook her head. "Josie...I don't like any of these people."

"Hey!" Cullen and Bull protested in unison while Dorian pounded the table, laughing hysterically.

"I meant enough to marry them!" snapped the Herald, rolling her eyes. 

Josephine worried at a fingernail with her teeth. "Well...we just...can't rely on Solas being found at this point. We need to prepare for the event that your sister returns without him." She made an uncomfortable face. "Are you sure you won't at least _consider_ Dorian...?"

"Yes, hello Josephine, have we met?" the mage in question held out his hand. "I'm Dorian of house Pavus and I am extraordinarily gay. Pleasure."

"I never said you had to sleep together!" she cried, slapping her hand on the table. "A Tevinter mage may not be the best choice for avoiding a scandal, but he has a title, a well-known family--"

"And a well know predisposal to taking it up--"

"And you are at least good friends." Josephine interrupted, putting a hand over Dorian's mouth without giving him so much as a glance. "It wouldn't be a bad match at all."

"What about Cremisius?" Dorian objected, pushing the woman's hand away and patting his moustache back into place.

"What you do on your own time is your business--"

"NO. For her!" the mage jabbed his thumb at the Inquisitor, who flushed a bit. Krem coughed awkwardly, his cheeks lighting up as well.

"Oh...well..." Josephine hesitated. "I did consider him, of course, but...of course I would certainly approve, but--"

Krem spared her the awkwardness of explaining with a comfortable shrug. "Only ones who know about that are all here. And my parents, but they won't say anything. No reason for anyone else to think I couldn't be the father. 'Course, a nobody Vint merc isn't exactly a better choice than a flamingly homosexual Vint mage..." Dorian snorted at this. "S'far as anyone outside this room knows, I got a lot more'n just a sock going for me, and it gives me an excuse to stay near the Herald and keep her safe."

Josephine's look shifted to one of manic thoughtfulness. "That is...not the worst idea..." she mused. "In fact, it might be perfect. Better even than a noble. Who is the Inquisitor if not a woman of the people? The smallfolk will draw so much hope from this; the union of their exalted hero and a common foot soldier..."

Krem laughed amiably. "I am anything but common, Jose," he joked with a wink. Josephine gave a flustered little giggle of surprise. 

Suddenly Cassandra stood up, so abruptly that the table shook, a strange look on her face. "Varric..." she whispered, eyes narrowed in determination. "I need to speak with Varric. He MUST write this into his next book, it's PERFECT!" With that, she bolted from the bar, shoving a drunken soldier out of her way with a clatter, leaving the rest staring after her blankly.

 

* * *

 

 

The sun was setting, casting a pretty orange glow over the snow-dusted mountains surrounding Skyhold like great, rocky sentinels. The gardens were cast mostly in shade, a chill air already beginning to stir, driving most of the residents inside to the warmth of the fireplaces. Ellana sat on a stone bench, wrapped in her fur cloak with Krem sitting next to her. 

"You alright?" he asked softly, rubbing a callused thumb over her small hand. The Inquisitor may have been small and sweet in appearance, but Krem had seen her face down some of the worst horrors Thedas had to offer; from dragons and darkspawn, to a lyrium crazed demigod from the very bowels of hell. He had watched her catch her hart, rampaging through the wild and destroying their camps, cowing the enormous beast with a scolding glance and a bop on the nose. Now, sitting in the waning light, dwarfed by her cloak, she looked small, pale, and scared. The mercenary wasn't sure what to do. This wasn't a problem he could tackle out a window. 

Ellana's slim fingers tightened over his. "I suppose so...It's just strange. There's a little...thing, a part of Solas, living inside me," she mused quietly, running her other hand over her stomach, still flat except for the smallest little bump. Her eyes were heavy with sadness.

"You still have feelings for him." Cremisius felt his heart clench. There was no question. Even when the two elves had been trying, very poorly, to conceal their relationship, it had been obvious. The little touches, lingering glances, stolen kisses when they thought no one was looking, and of course the harder to ignore tent visits, suspicious noises in the woods at night, and one time Krem had walked into the Inquisitor's quarters to make a report and was absolutely certain he had interrupted an under-the-desk quicky. 

But mostly it was in the admiring looks they shared; the pride and thrill in Solas' eyes when she expounded on her heritage and the intent concentration she had when he had something new to add; her amazement watching him weave a particularly complex spell with a wild elegance; the way he would absently tuck a fly away strand of red hair behind her pointed ear with a gentle hand; the time at camp in the Emerald Graves when Solas had come up behind her and clapped her on the bottom when he thought no one was looking, though judging from a collective snort from all who were present, Krem wasn't the only one who noticed.

The Inquisitor was too tired for tears. Instead she just sighed with a sad nod. "Yes. I still love him. Even if he is a bald-ass rat bastard."

Krem forced an encouraging chuckle. "And...what d'you think of this whole...marriage thing?" he waved a vague hand. 

"I...appreciate everyone's concern, but...what happens if he does come back?" she asked in a shaky voice. "To us? Do we...divorce? I can't do that to you, Krem. It's not fair for you, or me, or anyone!" She took a deep, shuddering breath, choking back tears. "I don't know if I can do this...any of this..."

"Ell..." Krem started, sliding his hand over her stomach. "All I want is to see you safe and happy. I wish...this is going to sound awful..." he muttered, but he took her by the arms and turned her to face him, staring down into her eyes with fierce sincerity. "I wish I could take your love for him away." Ellana blinked up at him in shock. "He doesn't deserve it, leaving you like this...miserable and scared. But I can't," he whispered, eyes softening. "I can't and I never would. Part of what makes you so beautiful is how much you love that him." The man smiled and poked her lightly on the nose as a tear dropped from her lashes. "You wear it on your face every day and I love that about you. I wouldn't change it for anything.

But until he shows up?" Krem went on. "Let me be the one to protect you...to make you smile, keep you happy and safe. You and your little one..." He ran his hand over the slight, fertile curve of her belly again. Her hands covered his gratefully.

"And...if he never comes back?" she asked, another tear slipping down her cheek. 

Cremisius stared down at her for a moment, eyes skimming over her freckled cheeks, lips rosy from being chewed at nervously all day, coming to rest on her eyes, wide, violet, and terribly terribly lost. He cupped her cheeks in his hands, tilting her chin up gently, and with extraordinary care, dusted her lips with a delicate, feather-light kiss. Slowly, he moved his mouth against hers, lingering sensually as her hands crept shyly up his chest, hooking over the collar of his tunic. She leaned closer, tilting her head slightly and he parted his lips just the slightest bit against hers. Their breath mingled briefly before he took her bottom lip into his mouth just for a second, then again, longer. Her hands moved up around his neck, pulling herself closer against him as his arms circled her waist. Krem felt her teeth graze him lightly and suddenly his chaste kiss was thrown entirely out the window. He crushed her against him, tongue delving into her mouth eagerly. Her surprised moan only spurred him on as he sucked and nibbled at her lips and tongue, a low groan rumbling in his throat.

"Fuck, Ell..." he growled, his fingers tangling in her hair.

"Later," she jested, panting a bit. They laughed into the kiss as Krem pushed her down gently against the cold stone bench, her breasts pressing against his chest tantalizingly. He moved his hands to cup them, running his rough fingers over the thick fabric of her dress, squeezing gently while his tongue laved over her lips. 

"Ell..." he gasped after a moment. 

"Yes?" she squeaked.

"Wanna have a weird fake arranged marriage with me?" he asked, grinning smartly.

Ellana snorted inelegantly. "Sure." It was a strange arrangement. Neither party was sure how such a relationship would play out in the long term, but the Inquisitor had little room to argue against a pair of strong, loving arms when she had a child on the way. Krem assured her that he would gladly step aside if Solas ever did return, privately thinking that he'd rather punch the elf in the face than give him a chance to hurt Ellana again. He couldn't say what might happen in reality. All he could be sure of what that Ellana needed comfort, care, and company, all of which he was more than glad to provide.

For now, that would have to be enough.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! Please comment or message me with any questions, concerns, or constructive critiques.


	8. Chapter 8

Evelyn was gone for a week without a word. Cullen fretted constantly, spending most of his free time pining away with the Inquisitor, who was becoming quite sick of him.

"This is just kind of...how she does things," she explained, reclining on the couch, rifling through a series of requisition requests from her clan. In her sister's absence, she had taken temporary leadership over the Lavellans. "She throws herself into things completely, doesn't look before she leaps...I think it must run in the family...Of course I would love for her to stay here with me instead of running off to Creators know where and leaving me with this crap--" She brandished the papers. "But as irritating as it can be, she's just...showing her love the way she knows best. Murder." She shrugged. "Sometimes she's gone for a while, but she always comes back. And with presents!"

Cullen shook his head. "Now I know how Mia feels..." he grumbled. "I should write her and apologize..."

"Yeah," chuckled Ellana. "You're really not one to talk...Oh, for--MORE?!" she suddenly exclaimed as hooded elf turned the stairs with another pile of papers in his hands. It was the same man from before, who had argued against Isenril at the last clan meeting. 

"Yes, I'm afraid so, Your Worship," he chuckled, eyes crinkling beneath his hood. "We are quite a people for complaining, aren't we?"

"I suppose we must be..." she grumbled in response, snatching the papers away. "Well, thank you...what did you say your name was, ser?"

He simply laughed again. "Oh, my name is hardly of importance to one such as yourself, my lady...but you may call me Banaean, if it please you." The man sketched an elegant bow.

"What a strange name..." the Inquisitor mused absently, flipping through the new paperwork. "Very well, thank you, Banaean." She spared him a quick, but genuine smile.

"But of course. I had heard you were feeling ill, and assumed you would not care to descend all those troublesome stairs to retrieve such trifles as this. I hope it is nothing serious?"

"The Inquisitor is fine," bristled Cullen. "Now, she does need her rest, so if you wouldn't mind?" He gestured to the stairs pointedly. Ellana gave the commander a strange look. 

"Of course, Commander," the man bowed apologetically. "My lady, may Mythal speed your recovery."

Ellana stared after him as he left. "How strange..." she murmured. "He must not be Dalish."

"What do you mean?" Cullen asked with a bit of residual irritation. "I swear I recognize that voice..." he murmured faintly to himself, a look of foreboding creeping into his features.

"Oh, it's nothing," the Inquisitor turned back to her work. "It's just that you wouldn't usually ask for Mythal's blessing for illness. That falls under Sylaise's influence. She's the god of medicine, Mythal is the Mother goddess..."

Cullen narrowed his eyes at the now empty stairwell. "I'll have someone keep an eye on him. I don't trust a man who doesn't show his face like that..."

 

* * *

 

 

Only moments later, footsteps lighted again on the stone stairs. Leliana pushed the door to Ellana's quarters open, grinning ear to ear. She had been living in Val Royeaux, going through the steps to become the next Divine. However, she had left the absurd hat behind in favor of dark-colored Chantry robes and a simple hood. Under her arm, she carried an immaculately wrapped package with a large ribbon on top. 

She leaped out of the stairwell, gift held out in front of her and cried in a jubilant voice, "Surprise! Congratulations, Ellana!"

Cullen nearly jumped out of his skin at the abrupt shout. Ellana looked up, pleasantly startled and sprung to her feet, scattering papers everywhere. "Leliana!" she hugged her friend tightly, laughing. "How did you escape the Chantry?"

"Oh, I'm always finding new ways out," chuckled the Divine-elect, waving a dismissive hand. "Their security really isn't as good as they think it is...I'll have to change that...but not too much."

"I should hope not, otherwise you'll never be able to sneak away," Cullen quipped, catching his breath. "How did you--?"

"Vivinne heard from Josephine, and made sure I got the news as discreetly as possible. She's right you know, we really should keep this under wraps for as long as we can," she reasoned sternly. "But, I simply could not wait to see you! How exciting, here, open your present!"

The woman pushed the package into Ellana's hands excitedly, clasping her hands in anticipation.

Ellana sat back down and pulled the neat wrapping apart curiously. Inside was a hand-knitted nug with a little red bow around its neck. She squealed and hugged it tightly, and the doll emitted a little 'squeak'. "He's so precious, Leliana, thank you!" she gushed.

"I knew you'd love it!" she cried, giving a little laugh. "I made it for you as much as for the child."

The three spent a long time catching up, laughing, and reminiscing together. Eventually, Leliana excused herself to go give her greetings to some of the others who had remained behind in Skyhold. On her way out of the Inquisitor's quarters, walking along the scaffolded walkway, Leliana, smiling brightly all the time, plunged her hand blindly into a shadowy crevice behind a statuary. There was a manly shriek as she hauled a dark-clothed, hooded figure out by the neck, fingers digging mercilessly into his soft flesh.

"Now, what do we have here?" she wondered out loud, ripping the hood away. Her blue eyes widened in angry surprise. She knew this man. Unfortunately for him, she knew him very well.

"Er...special delivery?" the Antiva tried lamely. The Nightingale's fingers tightened, her eyes narrowing dangerously. "Though, I'm afraid it's nothing so interesting as what the Inquisitor carries." He squirmed, laughing awkwardly.

"You double-crossing bastard!" snarled Leliana, throwing him to the ground. She fell upon him with a fury, striking him repeatedly about the head and shoulders. "You're a double-agent!? You son of a whore! You money-grubbing bastard! You--you traitorous slut!"

"These things you are saying--OW!!" the man pleaded between hits, fumbling unsuccessfully to push the livid woman off of him. "They are all very--ow--true, but--NO NOT THE FACE PLEASE LELIANA I BEG OF YOU--they are so very hurtful!"

"How much did he pay you?" hissed Leliana, shaking the blond-haired elf. "What have you been telling him? What is he up to?"

"He pays well enough..." the man coughed, groaning. "As for the information...well, as you know, I'm anything but cheap." He rubbed three fingers together and received a swift punch in the jaw. "Ow! I didn't mean money--no don't, PLEASE, it was a joke! Haha! You like jokes!"

"Give me one reason not to rip your genitals off with my bare hands, traitor," growled Leliana, flexing her fingers threateningly.

"Ah...well. Ahem, very well. To start with..." he waggled his brows and gestured to himself. Leliana's hand shot between his legs. "SECONDICANMAKESUREHEDOESN'TFINDOUTABOUTTHECHILD!" he shrieked in a single breath. The Divine paused. Waited. The agent took a relieved breath and plunged on. "Even if I promise not to tell, people talk. He will find out. This keep is large and loose-lipped, as is the rest of the world. I can keep this information from reaching his ears. Keep the Herald confined until after the birth, and I can stop any rumors the little birds might whisper into the ears of the wolves," he explained cryptically. 

"You think you can keep the birth of a child completely secret?" she asked skeptically. 

The man shrugged. "Why not? Once it is born, it's just another elvhen child in a keep full of them. The Inquisitor wouldn't even have to pretend at a marriage, unless she wished to. In fact, if my understanding is correct, the child might even be passed off as _her sister's_ offspring, with the handsome commander? I assure you, my employer has no interest in _that_."

Leliana considered this for a long moment. "Tell me where he is, then," she demanded.

The elf only chuckled. "Oh, but my darling, he is everywhere..." he murmured, shaking his head. "He is a god. Even I can only find him when it pleases him to be found--Don't punch, I'm telling the truth!  I can't tell you where he is now, ooh a little lower please? No? Fine. The time may come when I can lead you to him, but it is not now. I can feed him lies with enough truth to them to keep him sated, now please, _lower_."

Leliana ignored him, sitting back on his stomach, her strong legs pinning his to the ground while she thought. The man waited comfortably, humming a silly little tune with his hands resting familiarly on her hips. Without breaking her concentration, Leliana batted his hands away. 

"I don't trust you..." she spat at length. "But...I cannot kill an old friend in cold blood. Terribly rude."

"Terribly," the man agreed.

"If I hear _one_ word from anywhere outside the Inquisition, I will find you," she threatened emphatically. "And I will castrate you with a dull knife."

"Understood, and what a shame that would be for Thedas," he nodded. "In the meantime however??" he walked his fingers suggestively up her thigh. She slapped him again and stood.

"No, I don't think so," she replied breezily, carrying on her way as though nothing had happened. "Remember," she called over her shoulder. "A dull knife!"

 

* * *

 

 

Evelyn returned that very afternoon, in the middle of dinner, a large burlap sack slung over her shoulder. Cullen shot to his feet so violently that the table shook and his chair tipped over. He ran to her and swept her up gallantly into his arms, the sack falling away forgotten, and kissed her fervently while she squirmed and flailed, suspended a good foot off the floor. 

"I missed you so much," he whispered against her cheek before setting her down. For once, it was the Keeper's face that was flushed and bashful, thrown off guard entirely by the uninhibited greeting. 

"I miss you too," she grumbled, pushing at his chest and trying to hide an embarrassed smile. She retrieved the bag, which everyone else was staring at in horror, and emptied it out over the table. Josephine shrieked and nearly fled, but instead of the anticipated bloody body, an avalanche of poorly wrapped gifts spilled out. The relief in the room was palpable. While everyone at the table caught their breath and began delving into the presents, Evelyn forced a chair amiably between Sera and her sister, who was eagerly unwrapping a gift of sweet cakes, an obscenely large novel, and a fluffy knit blanket for the baby. "I couldn't find anything," the Keeper admitted apologetically. "I thought I had one good lead north of Val Royeaux, but turned out to be some weird Qunari activity. No sign of any elves."

The Inquisitor couldn't say she wasn't disappointed, but she bore the news with a brave face. "It's alright, asa'ma'lin." She squeezed her sister's hand. "You tried, and I love that you did."

"Yeah..." the woman fiddled with a discarded ribbon. "But I wanted to murder him so bad..."

"I know you did, I'm sorry." Ellana hugged her sympathetically, patting the older girl's head.

 

Over dinner, Evelyn was brought up to speed on her sister's condition, and the agreement between Josephine, the Inquisitor, and Cremisius. Evelyn cut into Josephine's enthusiastic wedding planning abruptly. "This seems unnecessary," she said. "Does there really need to be an actual wedding? Can't you just spread the rumor around that the Inquisitor had a small, private wedding? I won't have anyone marrying my sister off just to save face. It's not fair to her, or Krem, or the baby, whose father may still be out there."

"But what about the cake?!" cried Sera at the same moment Josephine held up a paper and protested, "But I have a seating chart!"

"Well, Josie, hold onto your plans," Leliana urged. "I may have a solution to all of this. We put Ellana into her confinement early, as soon as her stomach cannot be concealed anymore. Once the child is born, we pretend that it is Evelyn's instead."

Cullen choked on a sip of hot coffee, sputtering and spewing it across the table, to Sera's immense amusement. Leliana stared at him until his coughing abated.

"Are you quite finished, Commander?"

"I--" he wheezed.

"Excellent. You see, no one will care that the Keeper has a child. It's a drop in the bucket compared to the news of the Inquisitor giving birth. No one will look too closely at yet another young Lavellan in a Keep full of elvhen children." Leliana continued.

"I don't know why I didn't think of that..." Josephine murmured.

"It's fine with me," Evelyn agreed casually. "The kid's going to be my niece and/or nephew anyway, so it won't seem strange at all for Ellana to dote on it."

"But who--" Cullen squeaked.

"No one cares!" Josephine exclaimed. "That's the beauty of it! No one is going to question who the father is, because the nobility doesn't care!"

"Which is totally fine with me." Evelyn crossed her arms. "The less those uptight nose-pinchers pay attention to us, the better."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Elvhen courtesy of fenxshiral!  
> Banaean - Black Bird/ Crow  
> asa'ma'lin - sister  
>   
> Thanks for reading! Please comment or message me with any questions, concerns, or constructive critiques.


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> *Warning: Explicit Trans-guy intercourse is depicted in this chapter. While I feel I have done my best to portray this in a respectful manner based on my own experiences, I am certainly not in a position to be able to judge the effectiveness of my attempt. If you feel I have over-stepped a line or could have done something better, please do not hesitate to approach me about it. I would be absolutely delighted to have a conversation to better my understanding of the issue and continue to improve my writing and the portrayal of non-binary characters.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i'm stILL SICK pls send help  
> I'm retconning the landscaping immediately surrounding Skyhold because I have a signed permission slip from my mom that says I can do what the fuck I want. I may or may not be a grown-ass 27-year-old woman.
> 
> *Warning: Explicit Trans-guy intercourse is depicted in this chapter. While I feel I have done my best to portray this in a respectful manner based on my own experiences, I am certainly not in a position to be able to judge the effectiveness of my attempt. If you feel I have over-stepped a line or could have done something better, please do not hesitate to approach me about it. I would be absolutely delighted to have a conversation to better my understanding of the issue and continue to improve my writing and the portrayal of non-binary characters.

If the Chargers had an insatiable appetite already for poking fun at Krem, nothing could have prepared him for the light hearted abuses from them once they discovered the extent of his relationship with the Inquisitor. 

"Bah, why is it always me that gets thrown into guard duty for the construction?" Dalish griped one afternoon after receiving the next day's assignments from The Iron Bull. Keeper Evelyn had returned to a flood of complaints from both the clan and the other residents of Skyhold and had determined that the only solution was to build a township for her people down the  western slope on a wide plateau. The work would be done by what able-bodied elves there were, with assistance from Skyhold's dwarven builders and anyone else who wished to earn some coin helping out. They were currently in the middle of setting down a road from the Keep to the village site. "What'd you get, you lucky bugger? Rubbing Her Worship's feet? Rubbing her--"

Krem flicked a peanut missile at her irritably. "Yes, ha ha, 'cause I'm tiddlin' with the Boss Lady, right? You're hilarious. D'you ever think it might be because you're I dunno--DALISH?!" He threw a handful of peanuts this time. The elf dodged the halestorm attack by diving under the table. "Anyway, I'm on the walls with the Commander all day. Said since we're hangin' around for a while he wants to teach me some things to help pick up the slack. Inquisitor's going to be in for her confinement in a few months, so she won't be able to do as much."

Dalish gave a beautifully unlady-like snort. "Confinement. Makes it sound like she's a prisoner; she's just got a little bun in there, not a...a...lyrium bomb or something--although..." Her face turned contemplative. 

"No." Krem cut her off before she could formulate too much of whatever horrible thought she was having. 

"You're no fun," she scoffed. "I'm gonna go find Sera, she'll appreciate a good terrible idea. Have fun drillin Commander Beefcake!"

Krem groaned.

In actuality, while he did spend the day with Cullen, he already knew most of what he needed for his new responsibilities. Most of their time was spent in planning out a modest proposal to Evelyn, but the mission was, of course, top secret. Even Ellana didn't know, as she couldn't be trusted not to accidentally blab to her sister. 

"I mean, it doesn't have to be perfect..." the Commander fretted, sifting through a pile of suspiciously romantic receipts. "But it kind of has to be perfect..."

Krem sighed heavily. "I really, _really_ think you should just _ask_ what her favorite flower is instead of just ordering a dozen of _all of them."_

"I'm actually thinking a gross now..."

"A GROSS?! You want to get one hundred and forty four of every single flower in Thedas?"

"Hmm...maybe you're right..." he made some scratches with a pen. "What's more than a gross?"

"This needs to stop, Commander." 

Once the plans had been been wrestled down to a manageable size, and Cullen had been assured for the umpteenth time that he was going to be perfectly fine, Krem invited himself to the Inquisitor's new quarters. She had been reassigned a cozy little room on the ground floor; much smaller than her upstairs rooms, but it had a small, separate sitting room and could be reached without using stairs. Although she was still barely two months along, any sort of fall could be catastrophic, and Josephine had planned accordingly. 

Krem pushed the door open, a bottle of cider in his hand, wearing light leathers instead of his usual bulky armor. Even without the heavy metal obscuring his figure, he still boasted strong, broad shoulders and a well-muscled physique, with boyishly slim hips that many a lady (and several men) couldn't help but fawn over. Ellana looked up from her book as he entered, watching his confident stride with an open admiration over the top of the pages. 

"Like what you see, Your Worship?" he arched a dark brown at her, the suggestion clear. 

"No, I just like staring at people until they get uncomfortable," the small woman quipped without missing a beat. Krem chuckled and leaned over her, rubbing his nose against hers in a sweet, gentle motion. She lifted her chin to kiss him, but he kept his lips tantalizingly out of reach. 

"Well, my lady, you'll have to work a little harder than that to make me uncomfortable." He grinned, a finger skimming down her cheek. Her eyes lowered in a demure lie, lashes dusting her high cheekbones.

"You think you're so damn cute," she mock sneered, snaking a finger into the front of his tunic and yanking him down closer. She only managed the barest of kisses before he broke away again with another teasing smirk. He poured them each a goblet of cider, alcohol-free in consideration of the future life blooming in the belly of the Inquisitor, and the couple spent the afternoon enjoying the chill air out on the tiny balcony, punctuating companionable conversation with sneaky kisses stolen when the other least expected it.

"We should get you inside," Krem said at length, unfolding from his seat with a kind of powerful grace. The sun had sunk lower on the horizon, casting a dull orange glow over the keep, reflecting through the long-empty bottle of cider. "Can't have you out in the cold in your condition."

"I'm pregnant, not infirm," the elf protested even as she stood and allowed herself to be led by the waist back into her room. 

"Of course, Your Worship," purred Krem against her pointed ear as he guided her. A shiver thrilled down her spine. As soon as the balcony doors swung shut, the curtains drawn, and torches lit, Krem laid her down across her bed, large and comfortable but without the frills of her Inquisitorial suite upstairs. He kneeled over her with his hands on either side of her head, one knee planted between her legs. He chucked her under the chin with a long finger and pressed a gentle kiss against her lips. She reached up and ran her fingers through his short-cropped hair and down over his neck, shaven velvety soft. Her fingers linked loosely and she returned the sweet kiss with fervor.

"Krem" she began quietly, staring up at his handsome face with big violet eyes. 

"Hush," he whispered, nipping at her rosy lips with painstaking care, soothing each sharp bite with a red dart of his tongue.

"We'll be late to dinner," she giggled, sucking at his thick bottom lip in spite of her protest.

He groaned deeply, pushing his tongue fully into her mouth, one hand moving under her blouse, caressing the small curve of her stomach, barely beginning to show any evidence of growing life. "I already asked Cook to have ours sent later," he murmured against her lips.

Ellana laughed. "How thoughtful of you."

"You know me," Krem whispered through another kiss. "Always on top of things..."

"Oh sure," the Inquisitor joked, slapping him lightly on the rump, still capable of humor even with a decided shortness of breath. The man made a hungry grumble in his throat and nipped at her jaw. "Dinner arrangements, troop movements, me, every chair in the tavern..."

"Fuck off, Your Worship..." he growled with a mischievous smirk, dragging his nails feather light over her ribs. "I like to be tall." His lips moved down to her neck and he licked a long line from shoulder to ear with the flat of his tongue, hot and wet, then sucked at the lobe, teasing his tongue over the tender flesh. Ellana gasped with a light intake of breath, clutching him closer. Krem hooked her leg up over his hip, fingers digging into her soft thigh, and pushed his knee up against her. She writhed against him and recaptured his lips hungrily, rolling over until she topped him. Krem settled her comfortably on his hips with an appreciative moan, fingers gripping her waist, rocking her against himself with a slow, gentle rhythm. With a quick motion, he gathered the fabric of her blouse in his fists and pushed the garment up over her head and flicked it across the room. He pulled her down to his waiting mouth, squeezing her exposed breasts and teasing her nipples with callused thumbs.

"Make, you're beautiful..." he whispered, a needy keen in his voice as she grinded her hips against his with a rough jerk. His breath caught in his throat at another firm rotation. The Inquisitor grinned and repeated the motion deliberately. Krem arched himself against her, slim hips bucking at the warmth emanating above him. Using her as leverage, he pulled himself up into a sitting position, Ellana still straddling his lap and kissing him with a passion, dainty hands cradling his cheeks. Still sucking and biting at her thirst-inducing lips, Krem started to unlace the leather coat over his tunic, tearing the garment open and shrugging out of it impatiently. Ellana dropped her hands down to massage at his neck and shoulders, groping with admiration at the thick muscles. Krem smiled against her lips with a grateful hum. He ran his tongue hungrily over her bottom lip while she pulled at his tunic, eventually managing to get it up and over his head, leaving him in bearskin leggings and the tight, thick vest he wore under his tunic, made of a soft, supple leather, cinched tightly with several thick straps and buckles. Ellana ran her hands over the smooth, fragrant leather, her mouth latching onto his nape and biting hard. Krem squirmed in pleasure with a loud, throaty groan. His fingers leaped to her the lacing of her pale, doeskin trousers and pulled the strings loose, folding the fabric down under her bottom until she was free of them with a quick yank and a few snickering kicks. Holding her against him, he topped her once again, pulling one leg back around his waist. The thick seam of leather between his legs rubbed against her, catching at her clit as he ground his hips harder, clutching her thighs with both hands, fingers pressed deep into the pliant flesh.

"You're going to ruin this nice leather..." he joked in a hitched breath, continuing to rub against her already soaked heat. 

"So I'll buy you new pants," she grumbled, gripping his hipbones and urging him on with a rough tug. 

Krem silenced her with his mouth over hers, teasing their tongues together wetly as he picked up the pace, slamming harder against her until every breath caught in her throat and she melted into a mewling mess of sweat-drenched limbs and tangled hair. Krem stood with an abruptness that had her growling in frustration at him, strode to the bedside table, and yanked the drawer open. Back facing her, he stripped himself of his leggings and retrieved a leather-wrapped device from the table. One side became a part of him with a shuddering groan, then secured with thin straps drawn tight over his muscled thighs and hips. He turned back to Ellana, a lingering bit of shy trepidation on his dark, angular face. They'd done this several times before now, although it had taken him a long time to feel comfortable enough to seek his own pleasure this way. Most of the residual awkwardness melted away with a laugh as he realized the Inquisitor had been ogling his ass without a drop of shame the entire time.

"Like what you see, Your Worship?" he teased again, running a hand over his phallus. Ellana lifted her eyebrows and grinned with mischief in her eyes. As he approached, she grabbed him by the buttocks, nails leaving small crescents in the firm muscles, and closed her mouth over his thickness, lips stretched taut with its girth. Krem made a rumbling growl in his throat as he watched her, stroking her hair with a loving touch. She bobbed her head up and down, lifting her eyes to meet his as she worked him. "Such a good girl..." he whispered with a husky catch in his voice, continuing to pet her, fingers weaving through the loose red curls. 

Krem lifted Ellana up and settled her back down with him on the bed, splay-legged on his lap. She sighed in pleasure as he pushed into her and pulled her down flush against him. With a wet, juicy slap he thrust up into her soft folds, grunting with the effort. He buried his face in her soft breasts, clutching her hard around the waist as he plunged harder and harder into her core, both panting and gasping with every thrust. Her nails grappled and clawed at his back as she moved on top of him, grinding with a rough movement that contrasted the gentle way she cradled his head against her. His breath came hot and fast against her chest. He groaned her name from deep in his chest, and laved his tongue over a hard, red nipple, his brown eyes dark and cloudy with unconcealed lust. His hips bucked harder, over and over, needing her, eyes drifting shut as her juices dripped down his shaking thighs in thick, viscous lines. 

"Creators..." the Inquisitor swore, tossing her head back and riding out orgasm after orgasm, legs quivering with each intense wave that consumed her. Krem sucked harder at her breast, moaning thick around her at the sound of his name on her swollen lips.

"Ellana..." a heavy groan shuddered through him along with another orgasm. His muscles contracted and released in desperate rhythm with her own, each trying to pull the other deep into themselves. His deep gasps reached a hurried peak. She screamed in release, burying her cry in his shoulder, pushing him over into his, writhing against her with a hoarse shout. He braced himself against the bed, panting hard as they finished each other off with sweet relief rolling over them.

Once they had regained the use of their muscles, they rolled comfortably under the covers, burrowed under the heavy, warm blankets with rosy cheeks and sweat-streaked brows. Krem reached over and gave a tug on the dinner bell hung over the bed, slaking his thirst in the meantime with fevered kisses.

"Your Worship, I don't mean to blaspheme..." he murmured, flicking his tongue against the tip of her ear.

"Yes, you absolutely do," interrupted Ellana sleepily. 

"But fucking the Herald of Andraste senseless might just be my favorite religious experience to date."

"I'm Dalish, I'm nobody's herald, and certainly not Andraste's. I barely believe in my own pantheon, much less--what do you mean  _might_ _?"_ she demanded, eyes flashing open with a sudden alert glare. Krem laughed and nuzzled her neck.

"At this rate...I think you might have me falling in love with you..." he pressed along kiss to her shoulder, followed by a devilish little nip. "Your Worship."

"Again, Krem...what the absolute fuck do you mean  _might?"_

 

* * *

 

 

Months went by. Construction continued on the Lavellan's new township, little homes went up, along with a meeting house and private quarters for the Keeper. The dwarven architects had thoughtfully come up with a permanent design that imitated the appearance of their aravels, with sweeping roofs that called the broad red sails to mind, and round-bottomed bases. Evelyn was thrilled with them and couldn't sing higher praises of the gratified designers. Ellana, unfortunately, didn't have the opportunity to see them in person, and had to content herself with detailed descriptions and colorful drawings. Her confinement had begun as her stomach had grown too large to hide behind voluminous dresses with high waists and plenty of pleating anymore. She grew more restless and frustrated for every day she was forced to stay in her small rooms, under the excuse of extreme and contagious illness. She had her meals brought to her, books from the library retrieved, she had taken up embroidery and knitting, and other ladylike tasks that just infuriated her until she quite literally threw them out her window. Harrit stopped by one day while Krem was entertaining the petulant Inquisitor with stupid and entirely unromantic jokes, bearing a whittling knife and a block of wood. Ellana, thrilled, began to take lessons in woodcrafting, creating powerful and elegant bows as well as complex mage's staves. Her skill progressed quickly as she had so little to do but sit before the fireplace with her feet up, particularly as she came closer to her delivery window and found herself unwilling to move more than she absolutely had to.

Aside from herself, it seemed that no two were more excited for the arrival of a small, squishy new buddy than Sera and Iron Bull. They would get together every night and come up with increasingly worse names for the child over a copious amount of beer. Eventually they settled with great enthusiasm on Ass Kicker for a girl, and Kreme Brulittle for a boy. Cremisius strongly objected, but Ellana was moved to tears, although that could have been due to the hormones wreaking havoc in her body. 

What she was not so enamored with were the constant back aches, foot aches, headaches, general aches, weird cravings ('I don't even like mustard!' she sobbed hysterically one night while eating it out of a jug with a spoon), the vomitting, or the ever-looming idea of raising a child.

"I've slain ten dragons, Morrigan, TEN!" she exclaimed. The witch had arrived recently from Val Royeaux to oversee the final stages of the pregnancy. "I killed a god. I danced in front of all of Orlais which was awful, faced down hordes of undead, darkspawn, BEARS, countless demons and abominations, a herd of mildly disgruntled Gruns which might actually have been worse than Corypheus, prevented an apocalyptic future, time traveled, and entered the Fade TWICE and lived to tell about it," she counted off, reclined in her tiny sitting room with Morrigan sipping tea at her side. "And this is still the most terrified I have ever been. How do women just do this all the time?!"

Morrigan chuckled deeply at her friend. "'Tis not nearly so bad as dragons," she quipped. "Before Kieran, I could hardly have imagined anymore more ill-suited to the wonders of motherhood than myself, besides perhaps my own mother." She took a long, nostalgic breath, staring into her tea with a vague, far away look. "But then there he was, all squalling and shrieking, his little face all bunched and red, and I had never loved any creature more dearly than I did him in that first moment." Ellana listened with rapt attention, awe written all over her face. The witch turned back to her elven friend and smiled. "If I can adapt to motherhood well enough to raise such a fine young man as Kieran, surely you will do just as well, if not better." She finished with a deprecating laugh.

"I hope so..." Ellana rubbed a hand over her unreasonably swollen belly, draped in a simple velveteen gown to keep her warm against the chill creeping in through the stones. "Does it hurt very much?" she asked with a nervous tremor.

"Of course," Morrigan replied immediately. "Motherhood is the best and worst breed of pain there is."

"The birthing part or...?"

The witch laughed again with a dark humor. "All of it." She turned serious at this. "My only true bit of advice for you, Inquisitor...you would do yourself a favor to conceal this child as best you can from its father. Cruel as it may seem, a child makes a wonderful bit of leverage should you have need of it...and I have a feeling you will be needing a very great deal of leverage in the coming years."

Ellana's brows knit as she watched her companion, a sense of foreboding knotting in her chest. The child stirred restless inside her. 

 

* * *

 

 

"Shut up!"

"Stop that laughing--"

"Don't knock over the flowers..."

"Damnit, watch the corners--nevermind..."

"I said shut UP! All of you get out, stop touching things!" Cullen chased the Chargers out of Evelyn's room in a hurricane of scattered petals. They had just finished moving the flowers into the room and now fled from it in the wake of the Commander's nervous rage. 

He paced the small room, fingering the ring in his pocket. Krem had argued him down to a few dozen flowers of a random variety, set up tastefully around the small room, spare petals strewn elegantly about, and had put his foot emphatically down against the addition of a white horse, declaring that he would not be the one to explain to the Keeper why there was a pile of horse shit on her carpet. Evelyn would be returning any moment. Sera was good, but she could only run so fast before Evelyn finally caught up.

Sure enough, he heard the angry click of her boots echoing in the corridor outside and the faint buzz of her swearing, fluent in three different languages, under her breath.

"Pinch _my_ heiny will you..." she was muttering as she shouldered the door open. "Pinched the butt right off her--how dare--" she froze as she swung the door open, her face immediately flushed with color as she took in the colorful arrangements, the petals dusted over the bedsheets, and Cullen looking bashful in the middle of it all. "What..."

The commander cleared his throat. "Evelyn. I...I've been considering this for...quite a while. Believe me, I thought of every constituency at least three times, and I'm certain. I never want to leave your side. Ever." He stepped forward, taking her hand. She stared, her golden eyes wide and glowing as the sun, rendered speechless for once in her life. "I want to be with you for whatever remains of our lives in this insane world. You're like...like coming up for a breath after living under the sea for thirty years."

"Dry, painful, and quite possibly deadly?" she managed to rasp, ever witty. 

Cullen barked a laugh in spite of his carefully crafted speech. Trust Evelyn to throw a gleeful wrench in the most impeccably laid plans. "Well, yes, that too, I suppose. Well...now I've forgotten everything I was ever going to say in my entire life, so..." He cleared his throat again, and bent to one knee, her shaking hand still held in his as he drew the ring out, a beautiful golden band set with a daintily cut emerald. "Evelyn Lavellan, please make me the happiest man in Ferelden...in all of Thedas. Would you be my wife?"

"I..." she murmured in awe. "You...you know I cannot change my last name." She became business like in a snap. "I'm Keeper of my clan, I must retain my clan's name or else relinquish my ties to them and leave my people leaderless yet again, I cannot--"

"Evelyn," Cullen interrupted, squeezing her hand. "I...I never expected you to take my name. Actually, I was hoping...is it at all possible? For a human to take on a clan's name?"

"You want to be a part of clan Lavellan?" gasped Evelyn with a surprised sob. "I...I have no idea...I don't know of any precedent...well, then fuck it, we'll set the precedent! Yes!" she exclaimed, throwing herself into his arms. "Yes, I will marry you, and you'll be a Lavellan even if I have to kick a million asses to make it happen! Isenril can go fuck a pack of wolves." She was laughing hysterically while her new fiance rocked her back and forth on his knee, kissing her forehead and taking deep, relieved breaths.

"Now..." Evelyn cleared her throat after a moment, wiping her face. "Lets destroy this bed."

 

* * *

 

 

Moonlight filtered down through the thick leaves, casting a pale green shadow over the pale face of the man whose people whispered his name in the dark. Fen'Harel, the Dread Wolf. Cloaked in furs, he sat in judgement, tapping his foot with pronounced displeasure. Before him knelt a dark-skinned elf, blonde hair shining silver in the night, head bowed in respect. 

"Is this truly all you have for me?" he asked in a terribly quiet voice, sharp like a blade. His eyes skimmed the brief missive with disappointment. "The Keeper and her commander...nothing about the Inquisitor."

"She is abed with a severe congestion of the chest," the man replied, looking up. "The healers have declared her contagious and will permit no visitors except those absolutely necessary. The Keeper is kept far from anyone who has had contact with her, in order to keep the expected child safe."

"And have you seen her?"

"She is quite large with child now--"

"The Inquisitor," the Wolf hissed.

"Ah. Yes, briefly. She was in bed, heaped with blankets, with a rather worrying pallor to her face. She could barely speak for the pressure in her chest, but the healers say the worst is over."

"She will recover, then?" the soft question came with narrowed eyes and bated breath.

"Yes, it is expected to be so," confirmed the spy. "Perhaps a few weeks, a month at most before she is on her feet again, apparently. I am no doctor, so I cannot confirm the accuracy of this, but it is what the smallfolk whisper."

With a barely satisfied nod, Fen'Harel changed the subject. "And this building project? The Keeper has her sights on a township comprised entirely of elves?" He snorted. "A rather dangerous ambition. Even if Ferelden will stand for it, Orlais surely will not, and Tevinter would take it as a personal challenge. A town of their slaves, all together in one place. It is a thinly veiled threat, whether she intends for it or not."

The spy bowed his head again. "Truly a foolish move. So obvious."

"Subtlety is not a strong suit in the Lavellan line," sighed the pale man. "Unfortunate. Nonetheless, do not interfere. With Tevinter's eyes on the Inquisition, they will scarcely notice our movements. And a battle over the autonomy of Skyhold can only benefit us."

"Do we not need the Keep standing?" the Antivan asked in surprise.

The Wolf laughed with a dark rumble like a winter storm. "It would be nice, but not necessary."

"Shall I return, then?" he stood, tossing his dark cloak over his shoulder, ready to be free of the oppressive presence of his employer.

Blue eyes narrowed. "No. I need no more news of the Keeper's brat. Or her child."

"But the Inquisitor still--"

Fen'Harel cut off the man's words with a sharp motion. "Poses no threat for the time being. When that changes, you may return. For now, I have need of you. We must move forward." He stood, fluid like water. "There is much to do yet. Have the blood mage sent to me. There is another door to be opened."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That was way more plot than I anticipated for this chapter.  
> The last one was fairly short, so I hope you enjoy this comparatively hefty addition!  
> Again, if you have any questions, comments, considerations, photos of your pets, or concerns, please message me or leave a comment! I am trying to grow and expand as an author, and I am eternally eager to learn.  
> This shouldn't be the last update until after the holidays, but in case it is, I hope you all enjoy the 52 various winter celebrations that take place between December and January and have a wonderful, wonderful holiday season!  
>   
> Thanks for reading! Please comment or message me with any questions, concerns, or constructive critiques.


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Krem Brulittle is my new favorite pun

The castle exploded into life in the middle of the night, torches springing to life amidst panicked shouting and screaming. Cremisius stumbled out to the infirmary, shirt open to reveal his binder, chest heaving as he attempted to speak between gasps of air. His wild flight caught the attention of Sera, doing something conspicuous on the tavern roof, who immediately alerted Iron Bull, the Chargers, and the rest of the bar. By the time the healers had gathered their bags and took off running toward the Keep, four limericks had been written and pieced together in tune, and Maryden was hard at work on a sonnet to commemorate the occasion. A hoard of ravens had already been hurled out of the rookery by Josephine before they even reached the front gates, and Cullen, wearing a breastplate over his pajamas, had already assembled a regiment of guards every two feet leading to the Inquisitor's bedroom. The kitchen was bustling with activity, preparing a feast that would keep Skyhold in loosened belts for the next month, and three different betting pools had been started up by some mysterious enigma (Sera).

None of this mattered a drop to Ellana, who was pacing in her room, clutching her stomach and panting through each contraction as they came in waves, closer and closer. Her sister held her up on one side, Krem, having returned with the healers, on the other, each of them trying not to lose their collective minds.

"It's okay, this is fine. This is great. Fantastic in fact. Totally fine. I'm fine. Are you fine?" Krem babbled over and over again.

Evelyn looked like she might like very much to strangle the taller man, but she had promised not to murder anyone on purpose on the day of her niece and/or nephew's birth.

The Elvish healer was preparing poultices, draughts and salves for pain, and a powder to staunch bleeding. The surgeon, who in Morrigan's opinion was entirely useless, timed each contraction, checked her pulse with each one, and scratched her pen incessantly as she recorded each new bit of information. She had prepared a tub of hot water, plenty of clean towels, and a pair of suchers, as well. Cullen stood outside the door himself, sword drawn ('you never know', he'd said in a dark tone), and Morrigan had decided to preside over the labor from inside the doorway, barking orders as she leaned against the heavy, wooden door with her arms folded over her chest.

"Alright, your worship, I believe you're ready," the surgeon said calmly as the laboring woman groaned through another contraction. "Let's get you laid down--"

"No," Morrigan interrupted with blunt refusal. "She will squat. 'Tis easier on the mother. Should you require to see beneath her gown, you may lay on the rug." The surgeon pursed her lips, but the elven healer agreed, as did Evelyn and the mother herself, so she kept silent.

"This is how the Dalish have always done things," gasped Ellana. "And it's worked well enough for us. If I have Evelyn to help me stay up, I think I can do it." She had put on a face far braver than how she truly felt, but her word was final.

The healer put her hands under the Inquisitor's birthing gown and laid a poultice over the broad expanse of her stomach, then held a cup of tea to her lips.

"What is it?" demanded Morrigan with a sharp glance. 

The healer jumped, nearly spilling the tea. "Elfroot tea, my lady," she replied with a nervous tremor. "with a bit of dawn lotus oil. For the pain..." Morrigan and Evelyn nodded their approval.

"Good. Give her a braid of prophet's laurel, as well. T'will be something for her to bite down upon, and the cleansing properties will fight off any adverse side effects from the lotus," Morrigan instructed.

Evelyn thought Krem might pass out at the first bit of blood, but although his dark coloring drained considerably, he kept his nerve throughout the ordeal, clutching Ellana's hands and urging her on until she shouted at him to please shut his beautiful fucking trap.

As the sun was breaking over the mountainous horizon, a shrill, tremulous wail broke the cacophony of a pre-celebratory Skyhold. There was a collective silence that stretched across the grounds as every creature held their breath. Another plaintive cry prompted a fresh explosion of cheers, the popping of corks, the slam of axes into barrels, and a few fireworks nobody would take responsibility for (Sera). 

"We were supposed to keep this quiet..." Josephine protested, leaning on Cullen's arm, for her knees had gone weak. 

"We should have thought of that before we allowed a Tempest to join..." he grumbled, watching said rouge cartwheeling past with Dagna shrieking with laughter while clutching her around the middle.

 

* * *

 

 

"What will you call her?" Morrigan asked with a smile that very nearly revealed the slightest hint of pride. 

The wailing, pink little thing hadn't been silent until she had been allowed to latch onto her mother's breast, where she now suckled with a greed to rival any noble. The healer and surgeon had long since been ushered out by Morrigan, having cleaned up both mother and child to her satisfaction.

"Being born is hungry work," Evelyn commented with a soft laugh while her sister thought, staring down at the tiny life she had so recently been introduced to. 

"Mariel," she decided. "It is a very, very old word. I found it in a ruin deep in Crestwood...Solas said it meant 'Daughter of the Homeland' in a dialect so ancient, even he only knew bits and pieces."

"How very appropriate," the witch smiled with a wicked approval. "You certainly know how to twist a knife, don't you?"

"Look how small her little toes are!" Krem exclaimed in an oblivious hush, admiring every single insignificant detail of the child. "How can anything possibly be this tiny?"

The door cracked open on the other side of the room and Cullen stuck his head in. "Sera wants to know who it looks like," he sighed, exasperation absolutely dripping from his expression. 

"It's a baby, it looks like an adorable wrinkly potato," Evelyn clipped. Her sister snorted with grace and Cullen withdrew with a nod, the door snapping shut. The Hall outside erupted, and they could hear Sera screaming.

"I WON! PAY UP YOU LOUSY BUGGERS!"

Soon enough, Cullen elbowed his way in with a tray of hot tea, broth, and fresh, crisp bread. He paused to admire the child, ignoring the topic of the milk engorged breast with an obvious effort, judging from the blush in his ears. Morrigan rolled her eyes and escorted him from the room by the ear, bodily countering an exuberant Sera who bore a bottle of beer for the new mother and a smaller one, apparently for the baby. Iron Bull lurked hopefully behind the over-excited elf, but Morrigan stared him down with a steel gaze and he slunk away in defeat. 

Evelyn couldn't have been more proud. She kissed her sister and niece, beaming, and gave Krem a hefty clap on the shoulder. "Good job not fainting," she congratulated him, before slipping out behind Morrigan and closing the door with a soft click.

Cremisius watched the baby suckle in radiant awe for a moment, floored and astounded by the new life in front of him. Ellana's head rested back against the pillows, eyes closed in an exhausted bliss. "There's just a whole new person in the world now..." he mused. "Maker knows--I mean...you're amazing." He laughed, stumbling over his words.

"Would you like to hold her?" Ellana asked as Mariel finished her meal with a satisfied little grunt.

"Maker, no," Krem deadpanned. "I'd drop her. Or crush her. Or, I don't know, she'd explode for some reason. I don't know from babies, all..small, and...things, and -- Maker please no sweet Andraste help me," he babbled in a panic as Ellana ignored him and shoved the infant into his arms. She moved his hands to support her neck and head better while Krem sweated profusely, letting out an uncomfortable groan.

Ellana sat back and watched him with some satisfaction. Mariel looked up at him uncertainly, as though she could sense his inexperience and wasn't impressed at all by it. Krem looked like he was staring death in the face, but the baby wasn't dropped, or crushed, or mysteriously exploded, and the world spun on.

"Not bad," laughed the Inquisitor. "You'll make a fine father someday if you chill the fuck out."

"You think?" he asked, nervous expression brightening a bit. "Never thought about it. I suppose I could adopt a little one...a little miniature Krem galavanting about." He laughed, seeming to warm to the idea.

"A wee Krem Brulittle."

"Shut it."

"Honestly, Krem," the exhausted mother gave a fond sigh. "You look just lovely, holding her." Mariel looked even smaller, engulfed by an enormously fluffy red blanket woven through with silver Inquisition motifs, dwarfed further by comparison to Krem. He cradled her close, gazing at the squished little face.  

"She is so beautiful, Ellana," he murmured. "Bit like her mum, actually...now," he cleared his throat. "Please for the love of your gods take her before something terrible happens."

 

* * *

 

 

"The shit do you mean you don't remember me being pregnant?" Evelyn scoffed, bouncing Mariel gently. "Are you trying to flatter me? Because...actually it's kind of working."

Ellana rolled her eyes. They stood with a few confused architects in the newly finished town hall of the little elven settlement they had created, inspecting it together. Inquisitor had managed to work off most of her baby weight through rigorous training, disguised as recovery therapy for her supposed illness. She still had a flabby bit of skin at her belly that wouldn't tighten no matter what she did, or how much she glared at it or threatened it, but otherwise nobody would ever have known that she had been heavily pregnant not four months ago. Evelyn had quite warmed to her matronly role, though perhaps a bit too well.

"Did I say you could look at my baby? Stop looking at my baby."

"My apologies miss--"

"It's an old Dalish superstition," she replied with a stiff expression.

"It is not, stop teasing them!" exclaimed Mariel's actual mother. She apologized to the dwarves and ushered her sister to the other side of the room. "You need to stop. I won't have you going power hungry just because you're toting Mariel around, I won't deal with another situation like when Deshanna had her youngest--"

"Psh," Evelyn waved a vague hand. "That was totally different."

"She let you babysit for twenty minutes, and you arranged a nearly successful coup."

"Okay, it was more than twenty minutes and--"

"You were fourteen."

Evelyn considered this for a long moment. A very long moment. A ridiculously long moment. "Okay, fine." She thrust the baby at her mother. "You play Auntie for a while, I'll settle things with the building team."

Ellana took her child with an loving, but exasperated glance at her sibling before turning for the path leading back up to the Keep. "I don't know why babies do that to her..." she murmured to a solemn Mariel. "But I think it might be best if she doesn't have any for a long, long, long--Cullen, hello!" 

The Commander hurried down the path toward her, a sheaf of papers in hand and a familiar moustached Tevine in close pursuit. "Ah, there's my girl," Cullen began fondly, opening his arms to embrace Mariel. Dorian shoved him out of the way with an inappropriate level of enthusiasm.

"Look at this beautiful little creature!" he exclaimed thunderously, wrapping mother and daughter in a crushing hug. Mariel made a poorly-coordinated grab for his moustache. "Ha! She's got excellent taste! That's a good girl." He linked arms with Ellana, who laughed with a merriment she hadn't felt in a long time, while Cullen groaned and picked himself up out of the dust.

"Dorian's here," he supplied with a rather bitter tone. "Cassandra is waiting up in the dining room, she just rode in. Varric couldn't get away, but he sent a very expensive-looking cradle..." He shuffled through the pages he held as the little company headed back up the hill to Skyhold. "Vivienne sends her regrets as well, along with a truly ridiculous amount of baby clothes and...do babies really need jewelry? That sounds unnecessary..."

"And potentially hazardous!" Dorian agreed with a cheery smile.

"Oh wait, the jewelry is for you," Cullen cleared his throat and did his best impression of the wonderfully posh Grand Enchantress. "'You really should be wearing much more gold, my dear. It brings out the copper in your hair and you deserve all the opulence and glitter your little elvhen heart desires'. Love that woman, she makes you feel fancy just reading her letters..." He flipped to a new page. "Leliana has said she will try to get away, but her training as Divine is picking up...blah blah. Ah, Cole has returned," Cullen looked up from the letters again. "That chicken of his wins more awards every time he leaves...any idea what he gets up to?"

Dorian snorted. "I've asked. We've all asked. He just spouts the same cryptic poppycock, something different every time. One day, we'll wake up and that chicken will be the new King of Ferelden."

"Poor King Alistair...usurped by a chicken," joked Ellana.

"He'd just let it happen, too," Cullen chuckled. "'What d'you want from me, that's a damn excellent bird!'"

As soon as they passed under the gates and were safely inside the Keep, the conversation turned serious.

"Our dear Nightingale has some concerns about the future of our little Inquisition," Dorian spoke in a low voice. "She won't say anything specific, but she has heard whisperings among the nobility, the chantry, and her little birds bring disturbing news from all over Thedas. I've noticed quite a bit of oddness in Tevinter, myself."

"What kind of oddness?" the Inquisitor asked.

"They should, by all accounts, be very concerned with what you're doing here," he gestured back the way they had come, toward Lavellanlea, as the little town was being referred to these days. "But they're not. Something more pressing than a potential gathering place for all their escaping slaves to hunker down until they have the numbers to rise back up, but I cannot for the life of me get anyone to tell me a thing!" He made the declaration as if mortally wounded. 

"Maybe it's their escaping slaves that encompasses their attention?" remarked Cullen with a dry tongue.

"They're part of it, you great sodding...perfect specimen of a man--"

"What?"

"BUT!" Dorian put a finger in the air for emphasis. "The slaves aren't coming here." Ellana shook her head in agreement. There were the occasional refugees, but none in the slowly increasing numbers Tevinter was reporting as missing. "If they aren't coming to Skyhold, where are they going? No one knows. It defies logic. Here, the Inquisition has essentially declared itself for the elves, and no one cares."

"It's true, we haven't heard much more than a few grumblings from Ferelden and Orlais," Cullen agreed, still staring at Dorian with suspicion. "But nothing from Tevinter, nothing from Nevarra, or Anvita..."

"Our pretty red-winged nightingale is quite concerned over it. Apparently no news is not, in fact, good news."

"Morrigan can find out more when she returns to Val Royeaux and has the court at her disposal," Ellana said with certainty. "She's fixated on the Eluvian again, but I'm sure she'll be off soon."

"Why doesn't she take the blasted thing with her?" asked Cullen with a shudder. "It creeps me out. Like...someone's on the other side, watching..."

"Waiting..." Ellana added with a spooky inflection.

"Masturbating..." whispered Dorian ominously, making an obscene gesture.

"For the love of--" Cullen shook his head while the other two laughed hysterically, joined by Mariel.

"You see?! Excellent taste. I'm quite proud of you, do you know that you tiny little thing? Children are fantastic! Who knew?!"

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> DREAD BABY! Mariel's name comes from Tolkien Elvish and means exactly what is stated by Ellana. I also enjoy the way it calls back to Warden Mahariel.  
> I had to ask my mom some very uncomfortable questions for this chapter, and rely on my memory of when my brother was born. I've never had a child myself, so sorry for any inaccuracies.  
> Four months is around the time a child's neck muscles develop enough to hold their own heads up, and their object permeance has generally developed to the point of being able to react to things and act with intention rather than reflex, and visual coordination is just beginning to be developed. Baby facts!  
> I love the idea of daddy!Krem and detest the idea of preggers!Krem, so I intentionally wrote him as interested in the idea of adoption rather than conception.  
> Also, enjoy the happy!  
> It is going away.  
> Very soon.  
> Because I am an awful, terrible person, and none of you should have let me start writing this. Shame on you.  
>   
> Thanks for reading! Please comment or message me with any questions, concerns, or constructive critiques.


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> AGONYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYY

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Awkward, choppy jumps forward in time. It didn't work well for Corypheshit, I dunno why I think it'll work well for me, but I am sicker than hell, my husband is force feeding me tussin because I refuse to take it myself because it icky, and I woke up to a draft with a bunch of non-sequiter bullshit I don't remember writing but I'm sure that my poor drug-and-illness-addled brain thought was hilarious last night.  
> So here you go.

 

"No."

"Inquisitor, please, not this again..." Josephine heaved an upset sigh.

"I won then and I'll win now," insisted the disgruntled Inquisitor.

"Please just--"

"Absolutely not."

"If you don't go, the Chantry will dismantle the Inquisition in any way they can," the ambassador begged. "None of us want that to happen, so we must take to Halamshiral to plead our case. Leliana's influence as Divine can only carry so far if there is a majority of opposition to the Inquisition's autonomy." 

Ellana tapped her fingers irritably on the arm of her throne, expression petulant. "I refuse to go begging a bunch of twittering nobles to pretty please allow me to do what I want with my own damn keep..." she muttered with a dark taint in her voice. "Uppity bastards. Besides, Mariel is too young to be without her mother for such a long time. She's barely begun to be weaned and she won't sleep alone at night."

"Evelyn may remain here," Josephine replied tactfully. Ellana rolled her eyes. She was tiring of the charade. She had kept up appearances with a specific goal in mind, one that couldn't work if Solas were to discover the truth, but she was so sick of being denied her own daughter that she was ready to throw it all to the wind. 

"If Cullen's going, I'm going," the Keeper piped up nearby.

"I don't want to go, either," grumbled the commander. 

"You're going," Josephine snapped. "Dagna can watch the child, she likes her better than any of you irresponsible bastards anyway." There was a moment of silence at her curse, the small group staring at her unabashed. "I know what I said, and I meant it." She tilted her head primly.

"She has a point," Cassandra interjected. She was quick to correct herself at an indignant outcry from the others. "Not about the irresponsible bastards part! Although, actually...but she is right about going to the Winter Palace. If the Inquisition is to stay together, we must plead our case before the courts. We will all go. That's final." There was a collective groan, and a triumphant little 'hmph!' from Josephine. The Inqusition would appear before the Exalted Council in Halamshiral, where the organization's fate would be decided.

 

* * *

 

 

"This could not have come at a worse time." The Dread Wolf paced in the darkness, eyes flashing an angry electric blue, his footsteps echoing hollow against the damp stone walls.

"I'm so sorry, Ha'hren..." a small, slight woman said in a quiet, tear-filled voice. 

"It is hardly your fault, da'len..." he said more gently. "But I cannot allow the Qun has gone too far with this plot of theirs. They had made a lovely distraction for the Imperium, but I can no longer afford their interference."

"What will you do?" the woman asked, raising large, watery green eyes to her mentor, filled with awe and respect, and something close to fear.

"I will not have my hand forced."

"Then...?"

"Send the Crow back. He will go to Halamshiral with the Inquisition and make certain this Qunari plot is discovered without leading back to us, if possible."

"Is it...wise? To send him, I mean," she corrected herself quickly. "Him specifically. He is not as subtle as he thinks he is."

"He is at the very least efficient, and I cannot afford to send anyone else. His presence should go unquestioned, even if he does make a fool of himself." The Wolf chuckled a bit to himself, a dark, empty sound. "And he is a man who very much prefers not to be made a fool of, as I recall."

"...as you say, Ha'hren," the elvhen woman replied with some hesitation.

"And Merrill?"

"Yes, Ha'hren?" 

"If they so boldly dare to use our Eluvians, do whatever you can to make it difficult for them." A sharp smirk cut across his lips like a knife.

"Of course, Ha'hren," murmured Merrill, brightening a bit. "I have been very eager to try a few things..."

 

* * *

 

Mariel was parted quite unwillingly from her mother, her aunt and uncle, and of course from her Krem, crying and screaming with all the certainty of a toddler that once they were out of her sight, they would be gone for ever and ever, instead of just two weeks. At sixteen months, she had begun to look more like an actual, tiny being, rather than a squishy pink potato, and as such it had become increasingly harder to pass her off as the daughter of Evelyn and Cullen. Her ears were decidedly pointed, which was almost unheard of for a child of mixed elvhen descent, and her eyes were as large, violet, and expressive as Ellana's, her countenance as solemn as her father's. Even when she made mischief, there was a serious determination in her features that spoke more to her heritage than anything else. She had a spattering of freckles over her nose, and the faintest hint of a cleft in her chin. Her wispy hair was a soft strawberry brown, as curly and unruly as her mother's. It would have taken a very special kind of stupid not to recognize her immediately as being of Ellana and Solas. Although nobody within Skyhold was foolish enough to do anything but keep up with the charade, its visitors had to be very carefully curated in order to keep the secret, and the girl was never permitted outside Skyhold's walls. Even the short trip to Lavellanlea was considered too great a risk.

 

"I'm sorry, my love..." Ellana tried to explain. "You can't come with, it's much too dangerous..."

"She doesn't understand," Cole remarked behind her. "She knows the words, but they make no sense to her." He stepped forward and placed a pale, gentle hand on Mariel's head. "It's only for a little while. We will come back. We'll bring presents, if you are good." In his odd way, he calmed the girl enough for her to wipe her eyes with clumsy hands and bid a tearful farewell to her family.

"We'll bring so many presents, da'ean," her mother promised, kissing her fat little cheeks. "You'll have so much fun with Dagna you won't even notice I'm gone!"

"Oh, Cullen, stop crying!" Evelyn laughed, slapping her fiance on the back while he hugged his niece. 

He sniffed loudly. "I'm not crying," he croaked. "It's...allergies."

"Oh, move over, commander." Krem gave Mariel an enormous bear hug, complete with a few roars, that had the girl squealing in delight. "Bye, little bird. You're a brave girl, you'll be just fine. Not like yer uncle."

"It's allergies!"

"Don't worry about a thing, your worship," Dagna insisted, taking Mariel in her arms. "Between Lace and I, and old Grump-stache over here, she'll be kept nice and safe," she jabbed a thumb at Harrit, who was watching the tearful goodbye with watering eyes and a quivering orange moustache. 

"You're a livesaver, Dagna," Ellana gushed with sincerity. "Really, you're just the best. What would I do without you?"

"Cry, probably."

"If there's anything at all I can pick up for you in Halamshiral--"

"I gave a list to lieutenant Cremisius," she interrupted with a smile like sunrays. Krem held up a thick-looking scroll and waved it a bit in response. 

"Excellent! Consider everything bought and paid for already."

 

* * *

 

 

Luckily, the journey to Orlais was fairly uneventful, save for a freak rainstorm on the way down the mountain. 

Krem and Ellana spent a quiet night in a shared tent, their bedrolls combined for the extra warmth. Things were different between them lately, Krem had noticed. They still shared a bed, still enjoyed each other's company, and of course he was smitten with little Mariel, but there was something decidedly off. The companionship and love was there, but something else was missing. 

"Ell?" he whispered into the darkness, listening to the sound of the rain hitting the tarp above them. 

"Hmm?" she grumbled in her sleep.

"Is...everything alright with you?" 

"My back itches."

Krem stifled a snort poorly and rolled onto his side to scratch idly between her shoulder blades. She wiggled in appreciation. "I didn't mean that," he went on in a low voice. "I mean...I dunno. Doesn't it...feel weird to you lately? Us?"

She was quiet for a long moment; the only sounds in the night were their close breathing and the endless rain. "I don't know. Do you feel weird? Is it the sex? It's the sex, isn't it. I shouldn't have tried that one thing--"

"No!" Krem nearly shouted. "No, that--that was...that was great," he huffed an awkward laugh. "I definitely still like the sex. A lot. And, I still care about you a lot, too, and Mariel. You really don't feel...off at all?"

The Inquisitor turned onto her back and stared up at the peak of their tent with thoughtful eyes. "I don't know what's supposed to feel normal in a relationship anymore..." she admitted quietly. "I thought I did. I thought if you cared for someone...I don't know, maybe there's more to it than just...good friends and good sex?" She tilted her head to Krem for confirmation.

He shrugged. "Like I'm supposed to know? I kinda thought the same; if you can stand to be around each other for more than twenty minutes and the sex is great, by the way, not just good...I s'ppose by that logic I should marry half the Chargers, though..." he mused. Ellana slapped him on the chest. "I was joking! Mostly..."

They were quiet again, Ellana letting her hand rest on Krem's chest, watching it fall up and down with his slow, even breathing. 

"You still love him?" he asked, barely audible. Ellana nodded slowly. She could feel her throat tightening, and blinked her eyes furiously, willing the tears back. "Do you love me?"

"I thought I did..." she whispered thickly. "I think I do...I care for you so much, and I adore every moment we're together." Her fingers twisted in his nightshirt. His hand found hers and squeezed tightly. "I can't imagine how I'd have made it this far without you...you helped me give birth to my daughter, for the Creators' sake. You've helped me raise her and loved her like she was your own."

"But she's not," he replied quietly. "And she never will be. Not if there's even a chance he's still out there."

"Krem...are we...are we breaking up?" The tears fell. Ellana scrubbed angrily at her face with the heel of one hand, choking back a sob. Krem immediately gathered her into his arms, burying his face in her shoulder, fingers clutching her long hair as he pressed her face to his chest. He was shaking. She felt hot tears dripping down her neck.

"I don't know..." he whispered, chest quaking with the effort of holding back a sob. "I can't imagine not being with you anymore...but, it just doesn't feel right...I don't know if just wanting it is enough...for either of us."

Ellana bit down hard on her lip as more traitorous tears squeezed between her lids. "I'm sorry, Krem..." she hiccuped. "This is my fault. I'm so...consumed by this stupid asshole..."

"No, no, no..." Krem murmured gently against her ear. "This isn't your fault. It's not anyone's fault, not even that...bald-arsed bastard. It's...just how things go, I suppose."

She let a sob squeak out. Krem stroked her hair, holding her close. "I love you so much..." he whispered fiercely. "I'll never stop caring about you, no matter what happens. But...I think this is better. For both of us."

Crying freely now, Ellana lifted her face and cupped his cheek in her marked hand, gazing into his dark eyes, red and moist with tears. "I cannot keep you bound to me like this. I can't expect you to stay with me and give up a chance at having something  _real_ while I'm waiting and praying for someone else to come back to me. I won't do it anymore. It isn't fair." She dropped a kiss on Krem's forehead, pressing her lips against his brow firmly, though they trembled. "Ar lasa mala revas, ar'lath," she whispered against him.

"What does that mean?" he asked softly.

"It means you're free, my love," explained Ellana, withdrawing. She reached for her bag, her nightclothes rustling in the dark as she started to pack, scrubbing her tears away with a determined fist. 

"Wait," Krem grabbed her wrist, clutching at her in desperation. "Just...stay the night. One last night together. It's still raining out there, anyway...one last night..." He swallowed thickly. "Please, El."

Shaking, Ellana slowly lowered herself back under the covers. Her hand fell back onto his chest, her head cradled under his arm. With a painstakingly gentle touch, he lifted her chin, and their lips met hungrily. Her arms flew around him, he pushed her nightdress up, his fingers already working at her expertly, tongue tracing every familiar bit of her. Tears fell again as they gasped and groaned with one hoarse joined voice, writhing together in one last, desperate release.

 

The next morning was a study in extreme awkwardness. Ellana was gone from the tent before sun-up, packed and mounted before anyone had even finished breakfast. She and Krem treated each other with a careful cordiality, all strained smiles and moist eyes. They both agreed it was for the best, but that hardly made things any easier. 

"Alright, what gives." Evelyn rode up beside her sister once they had set off. "You and Krem have a fight? You're usually inseparable." She glanced over her shoulder at where the lieutenant hung back, shooting the shit with Bull. 

"We didn't fight," replied Ellana softly, keeping her eyes fixed on the road, Winston's reins loose in her hand. "We decided to end things. It's better for both of us this way." 

"What?!" Her sister nearly took a tumble off her hart, flailing and grabbing wildly at its thick coat to keep herself saddled. "You--WHAT?! You always looked so happy together! What the hell is wrong with you?!"

"It's not fair to keep him tied up with me when I'm just biding time," she snapped. "He could have a real relationship with someone, start a family of his own, adopt a little Kremlette. He can't do that with me, not while I'm still waiting for Solas like a fucking idiot." She took a steadying breath. "Krem is one of the most wonderful men I have ever had the pleasure of knowing. He deserves a woman who will love him entirely, with all of her being, all of her heart. I'm not that woman."

Evelyn listened quietly, head bowed in thought. "Geez, El...when'd you get so mature?" she asked in a quiet awe. "I'm...kinda proud of you. I still think you're stupid for calling it off...but damn, you're so grown up now! Where'd my baby sister go?"

Ellana snorted. "Yeah well, saving the world really puts some hair on your chest."

"Um, ew. Didn't need to know that." 

Ellana kicked at her sibling from her saddle, the girls laughing and snorting unattractively. 

"Are we playing horse-chicken?!" Sera shrieked from father back. "Wait for me, I wanna play, too!"

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA WHY DO I DO THESE THINGS TO MYSELF i am so sorry  
>   
> Thanks for reading! Please comment or message me with any questions, concerns, or constructive critiques.


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cullen and Evelyn-centric.  
> Basically an excuse to cram all the fun naughty Elvhen phrases I possibly can into one chapter.

So." Leliana stared down at the dead Qunari. He was an elf, though he wore the trappings of the Qun, and his head hung at a limp, unnatural angle. Blood pooled deeply around him and lead across the white marble floor, marred by deep scratches in the soft stone, and out the balcony window, the drapes in bloody tatters. The opulent furnishings were knocked over and hacked to pieces with a broad, sharp blade, and the expensively papered walls were splattered with freely dripping blood, long strips of the paper peeling away where the wall had been hacked at by a similar blade. "You just...found him here?"

"Yes."

"Already dead."

"Yyyyyes." The Antivan look about as certain as he sounded.

"And you are not lying to me? Remember, it is a sin to lie to the Divine," she rounded on him with a vicious little smile.

"Yes. I mean, no. Your question is worded unfairly," he whined.

"Are you lying to me or are you telling the truth?"

"I am telling you exactly as much of the truth as I know."

Leliana rolled her eyes. "And you are absolutely certain that this has nothing whatsoever to do with these 'mysterious agents' I have been hearing little whispers about?"

"Mmmm...mostly," he dodged.

"How much is mostly?" She arched a skeptical brow.

"Err...mmm...I'd say...about sixty percent. Sixty-two percent."

"Sixty-two percent."

"Yes, my dear."

"I am going to punch you in the throat if I find out you're lying," promised the Exalted Divine.

"Noted, and may I just say how much I appreciate your candor?" the man replied with brisk haste.

"You may shut your double-crossing mouth," she said with a half-hearted snap as she considered the implications.

"I am wounded! I have risked beautiful hide and hair to keep your Lavellan's secret--"

"Under threat of castration after you betrayed me," interrupted Leliana.

"And came to you with this terrible, terrible news with only the best of intentions in my heart--"

"You're probably the one who killed him," she snorted.

"Me?! Commit such a gruesome murder?" the Antivan put a shocked hand over his heart. "Why, I never--okay, I have definitely done it at least....several times. But I didn't do this one." He made a grimace of distaste. "So messy. No artistry in it at all, kind of a waste actually..."

Leliana shook her head. "I will have to let the Inquisitor know...keep this quiet for as long as you can." A heavy sigh escaped her lips. "This does not bode well for the Council..."

 

* * *

 

What was supposed to have been an irritating political circus show quickly turned into an irritating political circus show caught between some kind of Qunari plot and a suspicious group pulling strings in the shadows, known only as the Agents of Fen'Harel. The Inquisitor found herself hurled face first into the middle of all of this at a supremely inconvenient time in her life. She missed her daughter with a fierce passion, and she and her boyfriend had parted ways not a week past. She was certainly not in the mood to deal with the uppity nobility of Orlais, much less a small army of terrifying horned warriors. She didn't even want to address the issue of the mysterious shadow-group.

So while the Inquisitor found herself quite busy chasing down Qunari through Eluvians ('Because we really needed more of those,' she grumbled to herself), like some kind of demented, drug-induced fairy tale, Cullen, Josephine, and the Divine were stalling for time any way they could. Meaning, of course, that Josephine and Divine Justinia did backflips trying to find creative new ways to distract the nobles, while Cullen did literally anything to avoid having to spend any amount of time anywhere near the nobility. He wandered the markets, feigned horrible stomach cramps, and purposely became lost in the Low Quarter.

"Oh, no..." Evelyn laughed when she came across him crouched outside the Winter Palace, scratching at the exposed belly of a large Mabari with enthusiasm. A pair of weasel-faced Orlesian women were watching him, twittering and whispering behind silk gloves and flapping fans. "First you have a fan club, and now it appears you've made yourself a friend."

Cullen chuckled. "I found him for sale at a market in the Low Quarter, and I just couldn't say no to this big happy face," he explained, smushing the great beast's floppy jowls around. The Mabari panted happily and licked at his face.

"Why, he looks just like you!" she teased.

"Hey now..."

"Look at that big dopey smile--"

"I can take that ring back any time--"

"Who's a good boy? Who's a good boy?? YOUSE a good boy!"

"Alright, are you talking to the dog or to me?" Evelyn only laughed in response. "Alright, I get it!" he cried, joing her. "The resemblance is uncanny, I am essentially a great overgrown puppy. Ha ha."

"And a very cute one with a very nice red coat, too." The Keeper bent and pressed a long kiss to his forehead. The commander's hand came up and rested lovingly at the small of her back, moving his thumb in absent circles.

"What does that make you, then?" he asked with a sly look up at her. 

"A rabbit, according to the people here," was the dry response. Evelyn wrinkled her nose. "Not much better than knife-ear, I suppose, but at least rabbits are cute and fluffy." 

Cullen leaped to his feet in a fury. The Mabari followed in suit, rolling onto his paws and raising his hackles at whatever had upset his new friends. "Who called you that?" demanded Cullen, taking her by the arms in a fierce, protective motion. "Point them out, I'll flay them to pieces!"

"In that case, you'd have to skin most of Orlais, I'm afraid," she replied with an appreciative smirk. "And as much as I would enjoy watching that, I'd prefer you putting your sword hand to better use."

Another laugh rumbled deep in his chest. "And what use might that be, my dear?" he whispered, leaning close until their noses brushed, arms circling her waist and drawing her close against him. 

"I think you can guess," the elvhen mage teased with a coy glance up beneath her eyelashes. The serpentine hiss of a whisper and the angry swish of a taffeta skirt caught her ear, golden eyes flicking to the side. The weasel-faced women, wearing high ruffled collars and absurdly feathered hats were sneering at the couple with expressions that did nothing to improve their looks. Evelyn caught their murmurings faintly.

"Disgraceful..."

"Such a shame."

"A complete waste! The commander could do so much better for himself than some dirty wild elf."

"See her staff? An apostate, I'll bet. How can we be sure she hasn't enchanted the poor commander?"

Evelyn averted her gaze, flushing. "People are staring," she mumbled, toying with the gold buttons on Cullen's coat. "Maybe we should move someplace more private."

He tucked a finger under her chin and lifted her face to his. There was hurt buried in her eyes, a resigned sort of defeat. "Let them stare," he murmured. He kissed her lips, her cheeks, her forehead. "They can gossip all they like, but there could be no one better for me than the woman I love."

Evelyn threw her arms around his neck and stood on her toes, kissing him soundly, her fingers stroking the velvety stubble at the base of his neck. There was an offended gasp from the noblewomen, and Evelyn put her middle finger up at them without breaking the kiss. The women made more shocked and indignant noises and bustled away, muttering darkly behind their fans. The Mabari barked at them loudly as the fled, wagging his tail in excitement. 

"Darling," whispered Cullen, hardly bothering to break the kiss as he spoke. "Let's do it. Let's get married. Right now."

"What?" she laughed, uncertain if he was joking or not. "Here? Everyone is out fighting..."

"It's perfect! Josie can have her big wedding party when we return to Skyhold. If these trussed up ninnies want a scandal to whisper about, let's really give them one." There was a devious kind of sincerity gleaming in his eyes. 

"You want to go get married right this moment..."

"This very second!" he agreed. 

"Out of spite." 

"Yes."

The Keeper put a hand to her lips, eyes tearing up. "Cullen, I have never been more in love with you than I am now," she said with a happy little sob, hugging him again tightly. 

 

 

The wedding was quick and quiet. Cullen had used his influence and a bit of coin to push the necessary paperwork through while Evelyn found a simple gown to wear rather than her usual robes, in a beautiful cypress green, embellished subtly in curling silver embroidery at the bust and hem. Cullen bought a colorful bunch of wildflowers from a street vendor, and a pair of hardy silver wedding bands with a filigree design etched into them, and they found a small multicultural chapel hidden away in a nicer area of the Low Quarter, run by an elderly dwarven man and his elvhen wife.

"Are you sure about this, Cullen?" pressed Evelyn, clutching the flowers to her chest, high color in her cheeks. "You're sure you don't want something a little more...grand?"

"I'm positive. I-I mean, unless you're having doubts...?" he hesitated. 

She shook her head, black hair swinging loose down her back. "This is...actually probably more than I might have expected for myself before Skyhold," she laughed. "As long as it's you, I'm happy."

The commander's face brightened. "I feel the same," he murmured, kissing her hand.

Outside in the chapel's cheerful little garden, lit by the bright afternoon sun, the elderly elf performed a Dalish bonding right, joined their hands together with a long, woven cord and proudly declared Evelyn and Cullen to be married. With the smell of flowers and fresh, clean earth around them, they kissed. Cullen picked his new wife up and spun her, laughing with joy and high spirits. 

"We did it," he gasped, disbelieving. "We did it, we're married." He hugged her again, both of them a giggling mess.

"My sister is going to hate me forever," grimaced Evelyn with a self-conscious laugh. 

"Actually so will mine...Bah, she'll get over it," Cullen waved a dismissive hand. "In the meantime...I believe we have some other business to attend to..." He arched a suggestive brow. The commander passed some extra coin to the elderly couple and thanked them profusely, shaking their hands before he scooped his wife, his wife! up into his arms.

"Are you really going to carry me all the way back to your room at the palace?" she asked skeptically.

"Well," Cullen shrugged with a cheeky grin. "I am certainly going to try."

 

* * *

 

Laying in his bed at the Palace, among down pillows and soft furs, Cullen trailed his lips feather-light down the exposed body of his new wife, over the sharp collarbone, between her ample breasts, over the soft curve of her stomach, the full swell of her hips and thighs, his gentle breaths caressing her skin like a gentle summer breeze. Evelyn squirmed pleasantly beneath him, squeezing their joined hands and moaning provocatively. He dipped between her legs, tongue flicking hot against her clit, eliciting a throaty gasp from the writhing elf. Cullen chuckled deep in his throat, the vibration tickling her thighs, assisted by the prickling stubble on his cheeks. 

"Isalan hima sa i'na, Cullen," she whispered as he continued his teasing licks, punctuated by the occasional nip of his teeth at her clitorus and labia. 

"I have no idea what that means," he breathed, voice husky. "But please keep saying pretty things."

Evelyn laughed, her tan legs coming around his neck and urging him forward. "Dava 'ma edhas elvar el." She gasped and arched her back as Cullen's lips locked over the swollen red bud of her clit and sucked hard. "Ma'haurasha!" she cried.

Cullen smiled against her, slipping a finger into her dripping heat. She sighed and pushed against his palm while he curled the finger up with slow deliberation. There was a wet gush as he began to slap the heel of his hand against her and she gave a long, deep moan, her head falling helplessly to the side. 

"Elvar el ma lath," she murmured. "Nuvenan ihn bre'palas."

"I love it when you speak Elvish in bed my love," Cullen removed his hand and climbed back up to shower kisses up to her stomach and breasts, lingering to tease the hard peaks of her nipples with his teeth and tongue. 

"You don't even know what I'm saying," she giggled, dragging her fingers through his soft, wavy hair, now entirely disheveled. 

"So teach me," he suggested innocently, continuing to lave his tongue over her red, throbbing nipples.

She squirmed a bit at the feel of his breath against her. "What do you want to know?" she asked breathlessly.

Cullen bent his lips to the tip of one pointy ear and nibbled gently. Evelyn squealed and wriggled again. "If you were to...say, ask me to put my cock inside you, and fuck you like the naughty little girl you are," he whispered, fingers ghosting over her skin, savoring each twitch and sigh. "Just for example. How might one say that?"

Through short gasps of mingled laughter and pleasure, she recited in a slow purr, grasping the hardened, throbbing length between his legs and guiding it toward her. "Aman na'mis, Sidela da'asha."

"Mmm..." Cullen moaned as she rubbed the swollen tip of his cock against the moist heat of her entrance. "And if I wanted to tell you that I was going to fuck you until you can't even come anymore?" he asked sweetly. "I mean, just off the top of my head."

"I'll top off your head..." she grumbled, rubbing her thumb over the velvet soft tip. Cullen dragged in a sharp breath, half laughter and half ecstasy. "Jupalan ma sule," she enunciated carefully. "ma tel'rosa'da'din'el."

Cullen repeated the phrase haltingly, while Evelyn mouthed the words along with him, lips spreading in a proud smile as he spoke. His accent was abysmal, and his pronunciation even worse, but something in her core twisted warm and tight at the sound of his lips forming the words of her people, a promise of such delicious pleasure.

"Vera em su tarasyl, ma'av'in," she gasped, dragging him to kiss him with a passion. Cullen's fingers dug into the pliant, soft flesh of her hips as he plunged hilt deep into her, building up a punishing pace. Evelyn moaned and gasped against his firm lips, biting hungrily at them as his hips rocked against her buttocks.

"Maker's breath, you're incredible," Cullen rasped as she hooked her knees around his hips, meeting him stroke for stroke. With a shuddering, hoarse gasp, he burst inside her as her own orgasm dripped wetly over his stomach, creeping down their quivering thighs. Cullen rolled to the side as his arms gave out, and he pulled his panting wife against his chest, stroking her hair and breathing in deeply the scent of her; sweat, cum, and a flowery, exotic soap that drove him mad every time she whisked by him.

"Ar'lath'ma," he murmured clumsily against the top of her head. 

Evelyn lifted herself onto her elbows, a thick tangle of dark hair slipping over her shoulders as she regarded him with surprise. "I didn't teach you that," she exclaimed softly.

"I know," chuckled Cullen, far too proud of himself. "I had your little sister teach me. To surprise you. For our wedding." He kissed her hand, lips brushing against the cool metal of her ring. 

Evelyn smiled, blinking back a tear. "You great oaf, you planned it like this, didn't you?!" He just laughed again, lips grazing over each knuckle. "Ma serannas, ar'lath." She sniffed and rubbed at one eye, feeling quite silly.

"Sure, why not?" he joked, earning himself the first hearty whack on the rear of their marriage.

 

* * *

 

 

"This is..." Ellana stared up at the fresco, dread sinking deep down into her stomach like black tar. The evidence had been piling up around her, but she had been blind to it, turning away in refusal even as it loomed higher and higher over her. The hidden references in the notes they found, the lore uncovered in the floating library, and now these faded, chipped frescos that had somehow survived in a strange world somewhere between the Fade and reality.  "This is wrong...it can't be right. He...he can't possibly..." The trigger had been the vallaslin, a vibrant image of Fen'Harel, known so long to her as a trickster, a liar, a harbinger of chaos, serenely removing the blood writing from the relieved faces of freed elves, with a gentle, elegant gesture that was all too familiar. 

"Inquisitor?" Bull asked with a hesitant step forward. Her eyes were locked wide on the colored plaster, a look of abject horror dawning on her face. "What's wrong?"

"I know who he is..." she whispered, horrified. "I know." Every inch of her body trembled. The resounding explosion, the blast that struck the towering evidence down around her, suffocating her, was the final painting in the room. It took up the entire length of one wall, in dark shades of green and grey and pitch black. The looming image of a great, monstrous wolf, with three eyes and a mouth full of jagged teeth, stalking across the foreground on swirling black clouds of ash and dust. The figure before him, illuminated against a large, full moon, walked with arms spread and face upturned, as though basking in the moon's light as his robes trailed behind him. Though he went before the wolf, he didn't appear to be running, or afraid. His figure was one of calm and serenity, almost as though he were thanking the moon for lighting his way.

"Who? That Fen'Ha-whatsis we keep hearing about?" Sera put a hand on the Inquisitor's arm and squeezed, looking skeptically up at the mosaic. "Wolfy guy, yeah? S'not really him, though right, just some arse usin' his name to scare people...right?"

Dorian spoke up in a soft voice. "Ellana, come away from there now." The Inquisitor turned tearful eyes to her friend. "Come along. We can't turn back now." His eyes spoke volumes. His eyes said that he knew just as well as she did. His eyes told her how truly sorry he was for her, but all the begging and pleading in the world couldn't change what they both now knew. 

She turned back to the painting, her breath light and faint in her throat. She heard Dorian call her again, as if from a great distance, but his voice was drowned out by a dull roar in her ears that had been climbing a crescendo ever since they had discovered the body of the Qunari. Her heartbeat picked up to match, pounding painfully against her ribcage, pressing against the bones like a prison. "Why?" she whispered. "Why did you do this?"

Fen'Harel was Solas.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> White wedding dresses weren't considered the tradition (at least in Western countries. Other places in the world have varying traditions for the color of wedding garments) until comparatively recently, which is why Evelyn's is green instead of white. Up until white dresses were popularized by Queen Victoria, most people just wore the nicest dress they already owned, or had a new dress made, which then became their new 'fancy occasion' dress.  
>   
> Isalan hima sa i'ma - Lit. I lust to become one with you. Basically 'PUT IT IN'  
> Dava ma edhas elvar el - Lit. Lick my vagina/pussy harder  
> Ma'haurasha - Lit. My honey. Can be used as a naughty endearment, or to mean 'you make me wet', as haurasha (honey) is slang for either a man's precum or that good ol' vag juice  
> Elvar el ma lath - Harder, my love  
> Nuvenan ihn bre'palas - Lit. I want (you) to fuck (me)  
> Aman ma'mis sidela da'asha - Lit. I shall sheath my blade in you, naughty little woman/girl  
> Jupalan ma sule tel'rosa'da'din'el - Lit. I want to fuck you until you can't orgasm any longer.  
> Vera em su tarasyl - Lit. Take me to the sky  
> Ma'av'in - "A very personal and slightly sexual endearment. The meaning  
> is essentially, “I love you so much, and desire you so much, that my mouth tastes like yours.” But  
> also means, “We understand each other on such a personal level, that you could talk for me.”"  
> Ar'lath ma - I love you  
> Ar'lath - My love  
> Ma serannas - Thank you  
>   
> Thanks for reading! Please comment or message me with any questions, concerns, or constructive critiques.


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AHAHAHA I THOUGHT I LOST THIS CHAPTER WHEN MY HUSBAND TURNED OFF MY COMPUTER BUT IT LIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIVES  
> Lots of plot in this chapter, and a high af Quizzie.  
>   
> Thanks for reading! Please comment or message me with any questions, concerns, or constructive critiques.

She could hear his voice up ahead. Dorian's hand was firm on her back as they moved forward carefully, Sera stuck close to her side, and Bull's enormous presence behind her was an additional comfort. She didn't want to do this. If she rounded that corner, or the next one, she would come face to face with the man who had broken her heart, the man who had consumed her every thought, waking and asleep, the father of her child, and apparently the dastardly trickster god of every cautionary Dalish tale, the Dread Wolf who haunted every little elvhen child's nightmares, lurking in the dark with fangs dripping blood. Fen'Harel, the one who had banished all other gods to the Fade and locked them away forever. She might have to fight him. Worse, she might have to kill him. How could she kill the father of her child, the man she loved so dearly that she tearfully threw aside the love and companionship of one of her dearest friends.

"No one said love was easy..." Dorian murmured darkly behind her, sensing the tremor in her spine.

"I don't think they meant THIS!" she hissed back. 

A swarm of Qunari warriors ambushed them around the next bend. Solas was fighting someone far ahead, she registered as she jumped back on light feet, letting an arrow fly. She recognized the deep voice weaving a spell with a calm anger vibrating in his tone. Her heart clenched, and absurdly, heat crept up the back of her neck and in between her thighs. 'Stop that!' she accosted herself, ducking a blast of magic flame. She used the fire to set an arrow alight and shot it through the mage's neck. 'This is absolutely not the time for this!'

There were others in this battle, too, she noticed. Elves, in dark clothes that moved almost too quick to see. If they noticed the Inquisitorial squad amidst the chaos, they didn't show it. They were neither openly hostile toward their party, nor did they make any particular effort to help them. One man shoved Ellana clear of a vicious swipe from an Ashaad and shot her a confident smirk she felt she'd seen somewhere, but he dispatched the Qunari and was gone before she could recall his name.

Solas' voice was booming through the area now, shouting in a language she didn't know, but assumed it to be Qunlat.

"Boss," Iron Bull yelled over the din, smashing his axe into the skull of another fighter. "Get going!"

Ellana ducked a wild swing from a mace-wielding elf wearing Qun armor, taking the opportunity to headbutt him in the gut and put an arrow through his eye at close range. "I can't leave you guys to this mess," she replied, voice cracking from exhaustion. 

"Go get your man, you idiot!" Dorian's voice came from somewhere over her shoulder, but a dual-wielding Qun warrior kept her too distracted to look for him. "We can handle these brutes--I SAY, buy a man dinner first, why don't you!" A sudden, blazing wall of heat warmed her back, accompanied by a horrific scream.

"Sera?" the Inquisitor called, backstepping her opponent and then rolling between his legs. Her hand went to a dagger at her belt and she slashed at the backs of his knees, blood spurting and splashing her face. 

"FUCK BALLS TITS AND ASS JUST GO ALREADY!" the other woman yelled from atop a pile of rubble as she pushed a barrel of gatlok to the ground and fired at it.

Ellana needed no more encouragement. Ducking and weaving with a nimble, panicked sort of grace, she charged forward, leaping obstacles and dodging enemies, feet pounding the stones beneath her, carrying her toward the direction she had heard him. She rounded a sharp corner and came face to face with the Viddasala and a retinue of Qun soldiers. Instead of charging her, as she had expected them to do, they simply turned and began filing one by one through a shining Eluvian behind them, while the Viddasala spoke, accusing the Inquisition of assisting the Agents of Fen'harel. 

"We didn't even know these agents existed until we stumbled into this mess!" Ellana protested heatedly. She could hear her friends fighting behind her. They seemed to be winning, if Sera's exuberant cursing was anything to go by, which it usually was. 

"Don't lie to me, Inquisitor. I am the eyes and ears of the Qunari. You would have died from the mark on your hand if it weren't for one of their chief agents," the Qunari woman growled with a derisive sneer. The Anchor crackled painfully. Ellana grunted and clenched her fist, willing it to calm. "The same agent who helped seal the Breach, who led you to Skyhold, who gave Corypheus the Orb, then founded the Inquisition." She took a menacing step forward. "Solas, Agent of Fen'Harel."

Ellana narrowed her eyes. They didn't know. Of course they didn't. How could they make the connection when they didn't know him as intimately as she did. "Solas...?" she feigned. "He used us?"

"Did you not know?" the Qun leader seemed genuinely surprised. "We thought you were his ally. He tricked us all, it seems. He pushed dying Qunari into the Winter Palace to lure you into opposing us."

Each word was like a dagger to Ellana's gut. He hadn't lured them, had he? If he hadn't, Orlais would be a smoldering pile of ashes by now. Didn't that mean he was helping them? But why the secrecy? Why hadn't he simply come to her with the plot and asked for her help? Why did he have to trick her into fighting? She barely heard the rest of the Viddasala's words. Some nonsense about indoctrinating southern Thedas into the Qun, surely. She found it a bit hard to concentrate on anything while the Anchor was sparking and spitting with a fury, the nerves in her arm screaming in protest. She fell to her knees with an angry gasp of pain. The woman before her shook her head and murmured something in Qunlat. 

"If it is any consolation, Solas will not outlive you," she growled as the last of her men left through the Eluvian. She turned and followed after them without glance backward. 

It was a moment before Ellana was able to regain control of herself and push to her feet again with a groan. Sera appeared in the doorway behind her, followed closely by Dorian and Bull. "Solas has been helping us this whole time," gasped the Inquisitor as they approached. "We have to save him." 

Dorian and The Iron Bull exchanged a veiled look. "As you say, Boss," the Qunari said with a bit of reluctance.

"We'll guard the gate," Dorian declared lightly. "You go save your boyfriend's ass. It's far too nice an ass to let go to waste."

With a tired laugh, Ellana turned back to the Eluvian, took a deep breath, and dove through.

When she emerged on the other side, she nearly pissed herself. She ran nose-first into what appeared to be a towering statue of a Qunari, greatsword raised in mid-slash. She spiraled away from in with a shriek, and backed immediately into another statue; this time the horned warrior had an expression of extreme agony etched deeply into his features. The courtyard was full of them, all frozen mid-battle.

Carefully moving through the macabre garden, afraid they would all spring back to life at any moment, Ellana hurried forward on quiet feet, following the familiar voice of Solas. He was speaking Qunlat again, arguing calmly with the Viddasala. She stumbled to the top of a flight of stairs and saw him. Resplendent in copper-gold armor, tight mail, and silver gauntlets etched with heavily detailed ivy, curling across the band over his chest. Secured beneath his belt and looped over his shoulder was an impressive-looking pelt. Ellana ducked behind a large boulder, watching and listening though she didn't understand the words they spoke. 

"Your forces have failed. Tell the Qunari to trouble me no further," he said softly, switching to the trade tongue as he turned his back on the Qunari woman. She made a furious noise and hoisted her spear. Ellana's scream died in her throat as the Viddasala suddenly turned grey and brittle, instantly turning to stone. Solas continued walking away. 

"Solas wait--" Ellana cried, running toward him. She made it only a few steps before another wave of intense pain stripped through her, the Anchor sizzling with an angry spark. She fell to her knees with a pathetic cry, Solas turning slowly toward her. He came forward at an almost leisurely pace, eyes flashing electric blue before fading away to his own icy grey color. The pain abated, she looked up at him and stood shakily.

"That should give us more time," he said with a gentle smile. "I suspect--"

Ellana punched him in the face.

Weakened as she was by the Anchor and from the wild goose chase, it did little more than cause him to take a surprised step back and rub at his cheek with an expression that was almost a pout, but her point was made. She jabbed a finger in the air. "Fuck. You." she panted emphatically. 

He chuckled wryly. "I...suppose I deserve that."

"How did you stop it?" she asked, still seething, gesturing to her marked hand.

"The same way I did at Haven," he explained. "Although I'm stronger now...the mark you bear was bestowed upon you by the Orb of Fen'Harel...my Orb. That is how I can control it."

"You're him..." Her anger was faltering, replaced by confusion and fear, and a desperate longing to understand. "You...I...I did it with a god..."

Solas laughed again at the horrified expression on her face. "I was Solas first," he assured her, as though it made any difference. "Fen'Harel came later. An insult I took as a badge of honor. It inspired hope in my friends and fear in my enemies, not unlike Inquisitor, I suppose." His face shifted to a look of painful sorrow. "And now you know. What is the old Dalish curse? 'May the Dread Wolf take you'?" He asked sadly.

She shook her head with a kind look, eyes watering. "They were wrong...We were wrong...I've seen the truth of who you are at the Crossroads, and I'll not let the old lies be spread anymore."

Yet, the Dread Wolf shook his head. "No. What you saw was just another story, written in desperation to give me more credit than I ever deserved."

"Why didn't you just tell me...?" 

"Because then you would bear the same burden I do," he explained.

The Inquisitor thought of Mariel, in Skyhold with Dagna. "About that...I want to share your burden, as you have shared in mine. Ma ghilana, vhenan," she protested in soft plea.

Solas pursed his lips and turned slightly. "I sought to set my people free from slavery to would-be gods. I broke the chains of all who wished to join me," he continued, wandering toward the edge of the platform, overlooking a vast waterfall. "The false gods called me Fen'Harel, and when they finally went too far, I formed the Veil, and banished them forever. Thus," he turned back to her, the guilt in his eyes as clear as the falling water. "I freed the Elvhen people. And in so doing, destroyed their world." 

They spoke together in quiet voices, wandering aimlessly through the shattered landscape, unless Solas said something that jarred Ellana into reality like a fist through glass. "I will save the Elvhen people, even if it means this world must die."

Her tongue felt thick in her throat, like she was choking. Her heart stopped, muscles froze. For a moment she thought she had been turned to stone as well, until she managed to let out a tattered breath. "You...you can't..." she whispered. "Solas, there's so much good in the world, there must be another way to fix things--this cannot be the answer!"

"Not a good answer, no," he shook his head. "Sometimes terrible choices are all that remain." Sincere regret rasped in his voice, but Ellana felt like she was going mad. "That is why I left. I walk the Din'an'shiral. There is only death on this journey. I would not have you see what I become."

"Then don't become it!" she exclaimed. "Solas, some things are just too terrible...even to restore our world, some prices are simply not worth paying, and you don't fully understand the price. I have to tell you--"

"This is my fight, vhenan." His tone had become more determined. "You should be more concerned about your Inquisition. In stopping the Dragon's breath, you have prevented an invasion by Qunari forces. With luck, they will return their focus to Tevinter. That should give you a few years of relative peace...As for the Anchor..."

"It's getting worse..." The mark was beginning to tingle again. 

"I know, vhenan," Solas murmured, running a hand through her hair with a sympathetic look. "And we are running out of time."

Even as he said this, the Anchor flared up, more painful than ever. Ellana fell to her knees, a scream of pain tearing raggedly from her throat. Tears streaked down her face as Solas crouched beside her, placing a consoling hand on her shoulder. 

"The mark will eventually kill you. Drawing you here gave me the chance to save you...at least for now," he said softly.

A thousand cutting remarks chased each other through her mind. She could have cursed him, hurled insults, and railed angrily against him. Instead, through teeth clenched together in pain, she gasped, "Solas, var lath vir suledin."

"I wish it could vhenan," he whispered, throat choked with unshed tears. Another surge of white hot pain coursed through her, tearing another scream of agony from her chest. Solas leaned over her, stroking her face with one hand, while the other closed over her wrist. "My love..." he whispered, his breath cool against her cheek. He kissed her, as soft as air, then harder, savoring the last taste of her. His eyes flashed blue again..."I am so sorry, my love...I will do what I can for the pain, but even so...this will hurt you very much," he choked.

Ellana screamed, back arching, a sob heaving from her chest as Solas twisted her arm, hard. Blood sprayed the ground, dripping thickly between his fingers. All she knew in that moment was blinding pain, lightning flashing behind her eyes. She heard rather than felt the sizzle of flesh as he closed a hand over her arm again. The bleeding stopped. He passed a hand over her eyes, and suddenly the pain dulled, still there, but no more than a faint throbbing in her head. The world spun. Her eyes drifted shut heavily and she felt as though she were underwater. From a far off distance, she heard shouting and yelling, and Solas' calm voice. Slowly, everything faded...

 

* * *

 

 

"Fetch a healer!" Dorian screamed, slamming the door to the Palace open. There were shrieks and screams from nobility, and Josephine looked as though she might pass out, staring in horror. Leliana acted quickly.

"Bring her this way, there is an infirmary--"

"What happened?!" someone shouted as The Iron Bull barreled his way through the room, cradling the Inquisitor in his arms. 

"Somebody fetch Cremisius--"

"But I thought--"

"It doesn't matter, does it?! He'll still want to know!"

"What about her sister, has anyone seen the mage?"

"GET OUT OF THE WAY!!!" shrieked Sera, pale and looking a bit sick, but still capable of causing a ruckus. The dense clutch of bodies crowding the hall parted quickly.

Ellana's head rolled dully. She was just barely conscious, vision blurred, every sound crashing together as one. "Mariel..." she whispered. "Someone tell him..."

"I'm afraid that ship has sailed, my dear," Dorian was saying. "Who in blazes do I have to strangle to get a healer over here!"

"Calm your lovely mustache, darling," Vivienne's musical voice called. Ellana felt herself lowered down into a soft bed, and then someone was pinching her nose and cramming a bottle between her lips. She coughed and sputtered as a foul-tasting red liquid was forced down her throat. "Now, this potion is...well. Potent, let's say. Do not let her sit up, stand, walk, sneeze, drink alcohol, or use the facilities on her own for at least twenty-four hours, and she must never wear the color yellow ever again, I'm afraid."

Sera yelped and jumped back, clutching her sleeve away from the Inquisitor. "Why can't she wear yellow?! What's it done to her!?"

Vivienne was already on her way out to announce that the Exalted Council would be postponed due dismemberment, heels tapping authoritatively on the tiled floor. "It does nothing for her complexion at all, my dear," she called over her shoulder. Dorian nodded, sage-like in agreement. 

 

* * *

 

 

"How is it," asked Evelyn, fuming as she paced the infirmary, opulent and gaudy as anywhere else in Orlais. "That every time I'm doing something unholy with Cullen, you wind up being carried back home unconcious?" 

Ellana's head rolled jelly-like on her shoulders, eyes so severely dilated that all that could be seen was the black of her pupils, and a thin ring of violet. Evelyn had been summoned quickly and was now wringing information out of Dorian, Sera, and Iron Bull while looking after her addle-pated sister.

"Duckies..." the Inquisitor slurred in an amazed whisper, gaping and pointing limp-wristed at the ceiling.

"Okay," Evelyn sighed, forcing her sister's hand back down. "Okay, just...just tell me one more time: what the FUCK happened? 

Dorian brought the Keeper up to speed on the Qunari plot as well as what had happened with Solas. Evelyn bit her finger, deep in thought, throughout this recounting. "Apparently, the Orb can only be controlled by Fen'Harel himself, which is why he was able to keep it from consuming her for so long. But when he left..." the mage shook his head. "He claimed that he hadn't expected it to deteriorate so far. The only way to remove it entirely, thereby saving her life, was to take the arm off just beneath the elbow."

"You heard this from Solas himself?"

"Yes."

"And...he is Fen'Harel. A god?"

"Fen'Harel is apparently the name given to him by your old gods. I can't say whether he is a god or not, but he was able to turn an entire army of Qunari to stone and walk away without so much as a scratch." Dorian tapped his chin thoughtfully. "Although he did have a rather nasty bruise...I think Ellana hit him."

"Good," Sera snorted. "But now the blighter's gone off to try an' fuck around with the Veil all over again. Says he's got to 'restore the world for the Elves, even if it means destroying this one'." She waved her hands around, doing a rather impressive imitation, her lip curled in irritation. "I mean, how 'bout that, why does he get to decide? What's wrong with the way things are for shite's sake?"

Evelyn rubbed her hands over her face, pulling the skin down and groaning in frustration while staring up at the ceiling. "What the fuck..." she whispered faintly.

"That's basically the consensus all around, Boss." Iron Bull shrugged.

"Okay..." the Keeper rested steepled fingers against her mouth. "We...okay, we just... _What the FUCK_?!" she screamed in absolute frustration and confusion.

At this moment, the infirmary door crashed open and Krem stumbled in, a cold sweat on his brow, panting and gasping for breath. "Your Worship," he wheezed, eyes wide with terror. "Is she okay?! What happened?! I-I heard...everyone's talking...is she--is she alive?!"

"She's fine," Sera rolled an anti-climactic shoulder. "She's just over there, all druggy and dreamy. Gotta get me some of that stuff...oh, and also she's lost 'er arm."

"What?!" Krem shouted, rushing forward. He grabbed at the Inquisitor's remaining hand in shock, clutching it to his chest. "El...I--I'm so sorry...I never should have..."

The heavily drugged elf poked Krem's nose. "Boop!" she squeaked drunkenly. 

"Told you she's zonked," Sera laughed along with Iron Bull. Dorian just gave a tired smile and shook his head.

The Lieutenant choked on a half-chuckle, relief washing over his face. "I should have been there. I should never have let you face this alone..."

Evelyn put a firm hand on his shoulder. "Don't do that to yourself, kid," she said, giving him a squeeze. "None of this is your fault. Staying with her wouldn't have kept the Anchor from going haywire, or the Qunari from...being the Qunari - sorry Bull - or kept Solas from being..."

"Weird and elfy," supplied Sera, wrinkling her nose. 

"Yes, that," agreed Evelyn. She gave Krem's shoulder another gentle squeeze. "None of this is your fault, and she won't feel any better for you beating yourself up for it."

"Then why do I feel so guilty?" he asked in a hushed whisper, eyes never leaving Ellana's face. 

"Same reason I do," her sister replied quietly. "You care about her and wish you could have done something to keep her safe."

"How is she?" a soft, melodic voice asked from the doorway. Maryden peeked around the door, looking unusually shy and uncomfortable for a performer.

"Well, she's seen better days and she's short an arm, but I think she's feeling pretty good right now..." Evelyn replied, raising a dark eyebrow as her sister began chewing absently on Krem's knuckle. Maryden came forward and put both hands on Krem's shoulders, a look of relieved sympathy evident in her pretty features.

"There, see? She's okay."

"She's missing an arm!" Krem nearly exploded.

"But she's alive," the minstrel reminded him softly. "She's alive, and safe with her friends and her family." Ellana reached out a limp hand to bat at the long braid that swung around Maryden's hip with a vague, amused expression. She took the Inquisitor's hand and gave it a kind pat before returning it to rest on the bed. "And when she's back in her right mind, you can talk all about this."

"There's nothing to talk about," blunt Evelyn said, sitting on her sibling's other side, checking the bandage around what remained of her forearm. "She understands more than you think. She'd rather you break up with her than let you become unhappy with her, or worse, be forced to make a decision if Solas ever actually comes back. She let you go so you could find happiness."

"But..." Krem faltered.

"She loves you, Cremisius, and if you love her, you'll make the most of what she gave you." Evelyn darted a pointed look at Maryden, who bit back a little smile. Krem flushed darkly.

"I just don't want her to think..." 

"She won't." The sudden interruption was softened by a friendly smile. "Trust me. There's nothing you could do that could ever make Ellana think poorly of you."

Krem sighed, pushing the Inquisitor's hand away from his head, where she was petting the velvety soft fuzz at the base of his neck and whispering 'kitty'. "That doesn't really make me feel any better..." he mumbled, wracked with misplaced guilt. 

"Oi," Sera piped up. "Not to distract from Krem Puff's crisis with his ladies, but d'you really think Solas'll even be welcome back after 'e tore 'er arm off?"

"We already established that it was the only way to remove the anchor," Dorian sighed. "Which was literally devouring her alive. I'm sure she's not exactly thrilled with her spontaneous amputation, but I can't see Ellana, of all people, blaming him for it."

"I can blame 'im," grumbled Sera.

"He cut off her arm...to save her live?" Maryden exclaimed, a wide-eyed look of mingled horror and fascination on her face. "That's terrible! I could write that into a song..."

"Maryden!" Krem yelped in shock while the others laughed.

"Make sure to play it for Ellana when you finish it. She'll get a kick out of it," Evelyn chuckled.

 

 


	14. Chapter 14

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is entitled "I have a gigantic lady boner for historical costuming: a saga"

Ellana slipped down again, her butt hitting the ground with a jarring thump for the fifth time. "Fenhedis!" she cursed, rolling onto her side and struggling to her feet. Learning to function without an arm wasn't as easy as she thought it would be, and she hadn't expected it to be easy at all. She couldn't dress herself, kept trying to pick things up with a hand that was no longer there, and she had no idea how she was going to fight now. Her sister's insistence that she give up fighting didn't even figure into it. She'd keep fighting if she had to draw her bow with her teeth. Of course, archery was the least of her concerns, since she couldn't even mount her own hart without falling on her ass. Ser Winston chewed affectionately at her hair with a little, loving honk. The Inquisitor sighed and rested her head against his shaggy neck, patting his nose awkwardly with her right hand.

"Need a hand your worship?" Ellana lifted her head as Krem laid a hand on her shoulder. As soon as the words left his mouth, she watched the immediate shift in his expression from one of friendly concern to one of abject horror. "I!! Uh--er, I didn't mean..." he babbled.

She laughed wryly, bitter as all hell, but willing to give credit to an excellent, if unintentional pun. "Do you know how many times I asked my sister that today?" she asked. "About seventy, and every single time she couldn't decided if she should laugh or cry, so she just kind of...both. Really, it's fine." The Inquisitor interrupted as Krem opened his mouth to protest. "I just...can't get the hang of this."

Krem scooped her up and lifted her easily into the saddle, helping her secure the reins. "Can you ride by yourself? It's a long way back to Skyhold." The Exalted Council had finally been dismissed after Ellana basically kicked the door down, declared the Inquisition as a non-denominational peace-keeping force with the support of Divine Victoria, told them all they'd have to take her other arm and both her legs to keep her from retaining Skyhold as a sanctuary for elves and any other refugees and Inquisitorial supporters, and then flipped everyone off. With matters so succinctly handled, the Inquisitor was now being strongly encouraged to return to her Keep and resume her duties.

Ellana settled herself into her seat with an awkward wiggle. "I'm sure I'll manage," she sighed without much hope. "If I fall off, just let Winston drag me the rest of the way home."

Krem laughed ruefully and patted her knee, letting his hand linger there. "If you need anything, you know...I'm still here for you."

The Inquisitor sighed again with a tense smile, squeezing the leather reins in her hand. "I appreciate it, Krem. I do. But I'm just...not really ready to talk about things yet." Her eyes held a pensive look. "I have a lot to think about after this Eluvian business..."

"I understand," Krem squeezed her knee. "When you're ready, you know where to find me."

"Standing on a chair in Herald's Rest to spy on your cute new girlfriend, got it," Ellana said with a grin.

"Shshsh!" hissed Krem, looking over his shoulder in a panic, giving her leg a smart slap. "I haven't even asked her yet!" Ellana kicked at him with a playful laugh, nearly knocking herself off the hart. Krem grabbed her boot and pulled, righting her with the added bonus of yanking it straight off her foot. They both doubled over, cracking up. 

 

* * *

 

 

Upon returning to Skyhold, most of her friends having returned to their duties elsewhere, the Inquisitor went immediately to work. Her first order of business was to write Varric and have him commission Bianca for a mechanized prosthetic arm of some kind. That is, until she remembered that she wrote with her left hand. Her second order of business was then to dictate the letter to Josephine, and third to learn how to write with her remaining hand. The dwarf's reply confirming the order was quick and detailed.

In the meantime, while awaiting the completion of the prosthetic, she and Evelyn hunkered down to draw up a system of governing their holdings, and expand further. While elves were still 'mysteriously' disappearing throughout Thedas, quite a few ended up in Skyhold instead, after being interrogated thoroughly by Cassandra and Evelyn. Larger clans who had decided to settle there were beginning to speak of having their own township, much like Lavellanlea, in order to preserve the culture their own clan had developed. Still others protested against this, desiring a unified elvhen culture. In order to solve this new dilemma, the Keeper and the Inquisitor decided to grant land, building materials, and manpower to two of the clans, and to begin construction of a schoolhouse where elvhen children could learn the history and contemporary culture of their people. Their hope was that clan-lead cities would retain their own culture, while the school would foster the growth of a new, unified culture, while still appreciating the old.

Cullen was overseeing the construction and security of the towns personally, and had become more widely accepted by most of the elvhen people because of it, and because of his marriage into the clan. Ellana, however, attributed his popularity entirely to Dogward von Rutherbooty, as Sera had christened the giant, happy Mabari who now trailed after Cullen like a very large, very muscular, very slobbery duckling. The elvhen children adored Dogward, and such affection spread easily to his owner. In fact, it was impossible for him to so much as cross the courtyard without being beseiged by small children, to the sister's slightly masochistic delight.

Ellana conducted all of her business while toddling Mariel on her knee or her hip. The child was growing fast, and had been sorely missed by her mother. She was raised speaking almost exclusively Elvish, although she understood enough Trade to purposely ignore someone when they asked her not to do something, and had managed to pick up the word for 'mine' in Trade, which she used often and joyfully over things that were most certainly not hers. Her concern for her mother's missing appendage only lasted as long as it took her to figure out she could use it to her advantage, which she also did often and joyfully, until Krem stepped in. 

"NO, you will NOT be gallivanting about with your mum's knickers!" he scolded harshly one day, snatching the toddler up and wrestling the silky drawers from her thieving little hands. Mariel immediately burst into tears. "Ha, that's not going to work on me. Do I look like Cullen to you?" She immediately ceased her tears and gave him a solemn look that boded ill for his future. "Yeah, just try it, squirt," he challenged darkly.

 

"She needs a father." Evelyn crossed her arms over her chest.

"I know," grumbled Ellana, working at her letters.

"Or a second mum."

"I know..."

"Or something."

"I KNOW!" the young woman slammed down her pen, then softened her tone when her sister lifted a brow at her. "I know...I'm working on it. I'm trying."

The Inquisitor was hard at work on a plan to bring an end to the ambition of her former lover. Creating the Veil had been a mistake in the first place, though one made out of a perceived necessity. It was only right for him to try to make amends, to reverse his error and return what he owed to his people. But some mistakes didn't need to be undone, that shouldn't be undone. Rather than resorting to the pointless destruction of their current world, she hoped to convince him to make his amends by working with what they already had; improving the lives of their people instead of sacrificing them for a past they didn't even remember. With his abilities and knowledge, and the resources of the Inquisition, he could spark a rennaissance of Elvhen culture and learning, lead a campaign for the equal rights of their people, revolutionize the study of magic and the Fade, establish schools of learning instead of prisons. Sure, magic would never be the same for this world as it had been in the time of Arlathan, but perhaps that was a good thing. Immortality sounded tedious, anyway. Solas could do wonders for the lives of the Elvhen people, and instead he was hell-bent on ripping the Veil down, something they had all fought very hard to prevent, risking the lives of everyone in Thedas, with no real guarantee it would even work.

Ellana discarded plot after plot, consulting with her entire inner circle and every contact they could muster, but no one could say with any degree of certainty that stripping the Veil away would restore the world that was lost so long ago. No one knew enough about the Fade to make more than poorly educated guesses. Even Cole was unsure.

"It...could work..." he mumbled haltingly when they called him in to discuss it.

"Really?" Cassandra asked in disbelief, arching an eyebrow at him across the war table.

"Or the terrors of the Fade could rain down upon the world, flames and hail crashing to the earth, spirits corrupted into demons by the greed and sin of man, screaming in agony, spirits and people alike until nothing is left but ash--"

"Jolly." The Seeker grimaced.

Vivienne wasn't any more helpful, for all her contacts within the mage community, nor was Morrigan, who had returned to Skyhold with them. Dorian had called in countless favors in Tevinter, but the missive he sent back didn't offer them anything more than they already knew. 

It seemed, then, that the only options were to wage war against the Agents of Fen'Harel to stop the Veil from being torn open again, or to somehow convince Solas to give up on the one thing he had been working toward from the moment he awoke. Ellana settled on one last ditch effort to change his mind before she was forced to fight him. With a heavy heart, she sent word of her plan to her friends using agents Leliana had recommended to keep the information from falling into the wrong hands.

 

* * *

 

 

Ellana wandered barefoot through a thick, misty wood. The fog was so close around her that she could barely see a step in front of her. The heavy fabric of her gown tailed behind her, catching on rocks, grasping roots, and the sharp, reaching fingers of the underbrush. Her feet left bloody footprints behind her, and her body was weary, but she pushed onward. She had to. There wasn't a sound, save the crush of brittle sticks beneath her feet, the slither of her skirt over dead, crumbling leaves, and her own shallow breathing. 

A movement in her periphery caught her attention; a flash of white in the darkness. She whirled to catch sight of it, but it had already vanished. She sighed in defeat and turned away, only to gasp and take a bloodied step back. Standing still as stone before her was an enormous white wolf, with six piercing blue eyes that crackled with a power beyond the reckoning of any mortal creature; a power as old as Thedas itself. Ellana stood frozen, her legs shaking, but unable to move. She lifted a trembling hand with agonizing slowness, as if moving through a thick syrup. The wolf simply stared at her, as though from a great distance though he was only a yard away, a tremendous, weighty sorrow evident in his solemn eyes. She opened her mouth to call to him, but her lips wouldn't form the name, and her voice caught painfully in her throat.

The wind blew an icy chill through her bones, and the wolf turned and swiftly fled. Desperate, she tried to call out again, but the world spun and turned dark and her lungs closed up; she couldn't breath.

 

Ellana jerked awake, gasping for air. Something covered her nose and mouth. She was suffocating.

She was being sat on by her daughter.

"On dhea, mamae," the child said seriously.

"Good morning, ara da'ean," her mother grumbled, rubbing her eyes and stretching her back. She rose groggily and dressed herself as well as she could in the cramped aravel, while Mariel tumbled about in the bedroll. The Inquisitor pulled on a long, dove-grey dress, a simple but elegant gown of a light, soft linen that hugged her torso tight and flared out into a wide skirt with dozens of tiny pleats in the front and back, with a tailored leather vest that had long side panels to cover the immodest slits in the dress that allowed her to ride comfortably. The stitching up the sides and the sleeves were done in an exaggerated style with leather laces, one sleeve pinned up to her elbow, the other long and tight, covering up to her first thumb joint. The bodice was cut straight across, allowing a modest but alluring view of the freckled tops of her breasts, and was embroidered in ivy-like curling silver thread and minuscule seed pearls. She had a belt slung around her hips carried various pouches for coin, herbs, spare bowstrings and arrowheads, a short dagger hanging in its sheath, and a little metal hook on which to hang her shiny new prosthetic when she wasn't using it. Beneath her skirts, she wore reinforced leather leggings and sturdy knee-high boots. 

"Alright Mariel," she sighed with a weary tone, pulling the laces of her boots tight using her teeth. "It's time to get dressed."

"No."

Dressing a flailing, screaming, somehow slippery toddler one-handed was something Ellana would have traded in any day for fighting a dragon one-handed. Dragons, it turned out, actually bit quite _less_  than children. With some creative maneuvers that mostly involved either sitting on her, or holding her in place with her legs, Ellana finally managed to wrestle her daughter into simple green leggings and a simply embroidered ivory tunic, the better for her to run and explore, with a warm, druggalo fur vest to keep her warm. Teeny tiny, but very strong leather bootlets went with it, but she'd leave it to her sister or Krem to put those on. Evelyn would also be responsible for braiding the girl's hair back out of her face which would of course be completely undone at least three times that day. 

Once she climbed down out of the aravel and into the circular campsite, her sister, whose dress complimented the Inquisitor's only in a deep blue so dark it was nearly black, helped her fasten thick leather bracers on her upper arms and remaining forearm, and pulled her hair back out of her eyes and braided it elegantly, leaving most of it loose down her back, while Krem held Mariel upside down in his lap and forced her shoes on, cursing in Tevene when a flailing foot accidentally clocked him across the face.

The party had been on the road for nearly a month. While their mission was peace, and their comfortable yet respectable dress reflected that, they also weren't idiots. Their casual finery was complimented by hardened leathers and light metal armor, and each person had their weapon within reach. Even the Inquisitor wasn't defenseless, in spite of her arm. Her bow and quiver were slung over her back, and Sera was helping her strap her new toy onto the stump of her left arm. The device Varric had commissioned for her was a work of art, as well it should be, since Bianca owed them enormous favors for the rest of their lives. The mechanism was made of hard, polished wood with a lacquer to prevent splintering, with metal gears and fixtures holding each intricate piece together. A rune set on the back of the hand, crafted specially by Dagna, allowed her some amount of control over the slim wooden fingers, though the wrist remained fairly stiff. It took a great deal of getting used to, but Ellana was finally able to draw back her bowstring, though she was a far, far cry from her old skill level, and she still couldn't do anything requiring more fine-tuned motor skills like writing, but the mere fact that she was able to hold a weapon again was enough for her. 

Once she was situated, she sat down to a simple, hearty breakfast with her crew; thick grainy bread with eggs and a slab of bacon, with coffee and ale aplenty. She had tried to keep their little hunting party small. Tried. She had failed miserably. The original team had consisted of herself and Mariel, Evelyn, Krem, Morrigan, and Cole, who was invaluable help with Mariel. No aravels, only what they could carry on their backs or in their saddles. But Cullen had insisted on joining Evelyn, and if Krem went, nothing would do but for the rest of the Chargers to come, and if Bull got to go, it was only fair that Sera did, too. Luckily, Leliana was busy being Divine, Cassandra  and Josephine were insistent that _someone_  should remain at Skyhold to keep things under control, Blackwall was busy with the Grey Wardens, and Vivienne simply couldn't be bothered by any of it. Varric sent sincere, grumpy regrets, as business in Kirkwall demanded his presence, but he demanded a full, detailed account of anything interesting that happened. Dorian, of course, had gotten wind of their doings, and dropped everything in Tevinter with an enthusiastic lack of notice, and appeared waving jovially just as they were finally on their way out the front gates. 

"If one more person,  _one more person,_ invites themselves along, I am going to set them on  _fire,_ " Morrigan declared sourly. 

"You are all absolutely ridiculous," the Inquisitor sighed, helpless as they finally got on the road. A cheer went up from her comrades, accompanied by an exaggerated groan from Morrigan. 

"Hey Boss, you never mentioned," Iron Bull spoke up. "This hunting party...what exactly are we supposed to be hunting? More dragons?" His eye shone in hopeful excitement.

Ellana smiled pleasantly. "Bull, my friend...we are hunting wolves." 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dun dun dun!  
> Short chapter this time because I felt like it would be pretty fuckin' sweet to end on that line.  
> Next chapter we'll finally get to the super dramatic stuff I've been aching to publish since I started this fic, and maaaayyyybbbeee even find out who that mysterious, devilishly handsome Anvitan elf is! (As if y'all don't already know)  
>   
> Thanks for reading! Please comment or message me with any questions, concerns, or constructive critiques.


	15. Chapter 15

The Inquisitor had called in every single favor she was owed from all over Thedas, greased many a palm and flattered many a noble, for the barest scrap of information on Fen'Harel's whereabouts. It had taken months of information gathering, piecing together anything that could possibly be related and stringing together much more that had seemed entirely unrelated at first glance. Finally, things began to fall in line. Leliana managed to get her hands on a partially burned scrap of paper that, once decoded hinted at the location of some rather promising activity. She wouldn't say how she got it, of course, but with that final piece, Evelyn and Ellana were able to determine the rest of the pattern, a trail of missteps that ultimately lead north, nearer to Orlais than expected, but in a scarcely populated region where the trees and underbrush grew too thick, too close together to consider settling. At some point, the hunting party had to abandon their aravels and continue on foot and mount.

Ellana looked down at her daughter as she rode in front of her in Winston's saddle, fondness clear on her face. She had tried to tell Solas about her, but had been a bit preoccupied by her hand trying to kill her, and then by having it torn off to stop it from trying to kill her. Some part of her regretted what she had to do now, but she was glad she hadn't been able to tell him. This child could very well be his downfall. Solas might be willing to risk his own life, to risk those of his followers, the entire world, and even the person he claimed to love, but he wouldn't risk his own flesh and blood. At least, she hoped he wouldn't. Prayed he wouldn't, though she hardly knew to whom she was praying, given that her pantheon had been revealed as a pile of garbage.

Something inside her pulled. Mythal. Ellana's hand touched her heart. She could feel the voices murmuring, though they had been silent for so long. With Morrigan's help, she had learned to keep them at bay when she didn't need them, and how to call on them when she did. Recently, however, it had seemed as though they had abandoned her. She had tried to tap into their power to track down these agents of Fen'Harel, but they had gone quiet immediately and hadn't so much as stirred since then.

Until she began to ponder her faith. 

She shook her head roughly, pushed the voices away. They retreated willingly enough, although she could feel, somehow, that they were hurt. "Oh, fuck off..." she grumbled under her breath. "You weren't here for me when I needed you, don't try to make it up to me now."

"Well, excuse me."

Ellana nearly pitched backward off of her hart with a strangled yelp. Morrigan had ridden up next to her while she had been musing to herself. 

"Not you," the Inquisitor panted, struggling to right herself. She couldn't seem to make her prosthetic grab the damn reins properly. "You've done more than enough, it's I who owes you."

Morrigan preened just the slightest bit. "Now, there's some proper gratitude for you," she smiled with satisfaction, but it faded and became serious just as quickly. "I came to ask about your nightmares." 

The same dreams had come to her every night since the Exalted Council, with increasing frequency while they were on the road. The white wolf in the woods, always just staring, never letting her draw close. Evelyn and Morrigan both agreed; Fen'Harel was checking up on her using the Fade. 

"Still the same." Ellana shifted in her saddle, settling Mariel more securely while the girl sucked on the end of her mother's braid for some reason. "But it's every night now."

"He is curious," Morrigan seemed amused. "Likely he senses us drawing nearer, but...he has made no real attempt to stop you, nor given any warning?"

"No. He just...looks at me. I can't reach him, or call to him, or follow, and then it's over..."

"And you're certain he doesn't know about her?" The witch looked pointedly at the toddler nestled comfortably in her mother's lap.

"Evelyn has placed countless wards, and I've kept the Well of Sorrows at bay," replied Ellana. "Do you really think Mythal would reveal her to him?"

"If what you say is true, Fen'Harel was a servant of Mythal." Morrigan looked thoughtful. "And there's a good chance that he may have found out despite all of our precautions. Still, we must be vigilant nonetheless."

 

* * *

 

 

"What game is she playing?" Fen'Harel wondered out loud, glaring down at an elegant if simply drawn map of the area. He leaned forward on the table, eyes skimming the pieces he had set out. There were others around the table with him; Merrill, the Antivan man who never removed his hood, and the sentinel, Abelas.

"She's dug so deeply to find you, expended so many of her resources, and in the end all she brings is this...rabble?" Abelas said, scoffing with disbelief. "I had expected her to come with an army, or at the very least a task force. But no, she rides through the woods as if they were simply out to enjoy the fresh air."

"Do not underestimate them," the Dread Wolf replied evenly. "I have no doubt that given the proper motivation, the lot of them could defeat us, Old Gods or no. Unfortunately, I have given them plenty of motivation. I'm certain most of their little hunting party no longer think of me fondly."

Merrill looked sympathetic. "Do you really think they would? I made sure to keep our agents from hurting them too badly...do you think I should have done something about the Librarians...?"

"No, da'len, you played your part with the Eluvians admirably," he said, sparing her a tired smile. 

"We should send a force to meet them," Abelas interjected pointedly. "We can turn them back without too many casualties--"

"I would prefer no casualties," said Fen'Harel lightly. "If her intention was war, nothing could prevent her from pursuing me when I visit her in the Fade. Instead, she allows herself to be held back." He had rarely seen her more helpless as he had in those dreams. It hurt him just thinking about the amount of pain she must be in, made all the worse knowing that it was he who caused it.

"Then we should move on," the Sentinel insisted.

"I, for one, am quite curious to see what her intentions are," the Antivan said with a slippery laugh. "We could easily throw her off the scent, but where would the fun in that be?"

Abelas growled. He didn't trust this elf, with his cloying manner of speech and penchant for withholding information until it suited him to reveal it, usually whenever it would embarrass or undermine Abelas. "Your inane curiosity will get us all killed."

While the pair of them bickered, Merrill looking on with a worried expression, Solas looked down at his palm, at the mark he had taken from Ellana. An image of her lying half conscious on the moss-covered stone flashed through his mind. Her eyes, bleary with agony, sweat and tears mingling with dirt and ash on her cheeks, sticking to the unruly flyaways escaped from her braid; the smoldering stump of her arm stared at him accusingly. She was trying to tell him something. He hadn't had a choice. The Anchor would have killed her slowly, devouring flesh and bone until she was consumed entirely. He had removed it as quickly as possible, dulled the pain as much as he could, and cauterized the wound to keep her from bleeding out. Yet the guilt still plagued him, her tearful, betrayed expression as he turned to leave still haunted him. He had kept the truth from her, let her fall in love with him, even when he knew he could never stay. It was cruelty beyond measure, cruelty he had never thought himself capable of. The merciful amputation of the arm that was killing her had been a kindness compared to the emotional turmoil he had dragged her through.

He could have fixed it. He could have gone to her, took her in his arms and brought her with him. He could have taken care of her, kept her with him until the end. Instead, he ran, tail between his legs, like a coward. 

"Well, at least my face doesn't scare off all the ladies! Look at how you scowl, it's a wonder every Eluvian here doesn't shatter every time you enter the room!" the Antivan was saying gleefully.

"Please stop fighting--" Merrill begged as Abelas' face turned beet red with fury.

"If I had my way, your head would be mounted on the wall, and where will your looks get you then?"

"Probably first prize at a taxidermy contest--"

"You infuriating--!!"

"Stop!" Merrill shouted, slamming her hands on the table. "My lord...? Are you alright?" Her voice became much quieter, gentle and caring as ever. The other two men turned to their leader in shock, then averted their eyes respectfully. A tear streamed down the broad cheek of Fen'Harel.

"Let them come," he said softly, lips barely moving. "We will see what they want of us. Send scouts out to meet them at our border and have them brought to me. Now, leave." 

In obedient silence, the three agents hurried out of the war room. Merrill paused in the doorway and turned back to see the face of her leader crumble in the candlelight, his body quaking with quiet, hoarse sobs. "Vhenan..." she heard him whisper through trembling lips, his voice shattered. Softly, she pulled the door shut and left.

 

* * *

 

 "Argh, no!" Krem wailed dramatically, falling to the ground and clutching a stick under his arm.

"Got him!" Sera cheered, lifting a giggling Mariel up victoriously.

"Yay!" chirped the toddler.

"Yaaaaaayyyyy!"

"Oh no, look out!" Krem shambled to his feet. "It's zombie-Krem!" He stretched his arms out stiffly in front of him and lunged for the girls. Both shrieked and Sera fled with Mariel still held over her head, the little girl laughing as she was bounced and jostled around. 

"Which one in yours again?" Evelyn quipped to her sister.

Ellana shrugged her shoulders while shoving a spoonful of boiled greens into her mouth. "Will you dorks get over here and eat?" she demanded, mouth full. 

Sera rolled her eyes and groaned. "Yes, _mum_. OW, Krem that was my _tit_!" She dropped Mariel and swung around to deck the laughing mercenary in the mouth after he'd poked at her with the very weapon of his own prior demise.

They were getting close. The mages of the party had set up wards all around their campsites to conceal their location, and most importantly around Mariel herself to keep her presence from being noticed by the scouts that surely roamed the thick woods. Enormous trees and tangled bushes and vines grew so thick here that it was difficult to find a clear, level place to light their campfire. The large group was forced to spread their bedrolls wherever there was room, which occasionally meant sleeping on top of the giant roots that curled up from the peaty ground, or squishing together awkwardly. Bull snored like a dragon, Sera flailed and yelled in her sleep, and Rocky preferred to sleep au naturale. He was also a sleep-walker. Tensions roiled beneath the surface of the faux hunting party, and not just due to the close quarters. Most of the group bore Solas ill-will for his actions, whether for breaking the heart of their Inquisitor or for his betrayal of the cause they had all dedicated years of their lives to, or both. The Iron Bull in particular was itching to get his hands around "his bald skinny little twig neck." Ellana had sat everyone down and made them promise to play nicely unless it appeared they would be in any danger. Even so, she was nervous. She kept her daughter more closely guarded than usual, and Cole had begun using his powers to help her keep the voices of the Well from betraying her thoughts to Mythal, who she worried might betray her to the Dread Wolf. 

Their little caravan moved ever forward through the dense, rocky forest, on high alert. If their carefully drawn up plans were accurate, the agents of Fen'Harel would have a well-concealed camp nearby in the crumbling remains of a ruin long forgotten to history. However predictable it may be for Solas to make his lair within an Elvhen ruin, she knew he wouldn't wish to settled anywhere else if he could help it.

Sure enough, Morrigan whispered to her one morning that she had spotted movement nearby. Mariel was kept sequestered beneath her mother's cloak or nestled inside Cullen's coat from then on, with a strong concealment spell cast over her. Iron Bull and Krem flanked whomever happened to be holding the girl while the other Chargers maintained a rotation around them. Cole brought up the back of their party, feeling out for scouts, ready to raise the alarm if he sensed danger. Evelyn took point, ironbark staff at the ready, and Sera had taken to the trees above them for a bird's eye view.

As the foliage grew even closer and more wild, a scout emerged from the shadows of the dense overgrowth, bow and arrow in hand, but pointed to the ground. It was a peaceful, if guarded posture for the time being, but all it would take was a single quick gesture to take aim and let fly. The party came to a defensive halt at his appearance. Hands went to weapons as a mage with heavily stylized vallaslin declaring her for Andruil joined him, followed by another mage, this one familiar, with Mythal's vallaslin.

"Abelas," acknowledged the Inquisitor with a nod. She wasn't terribly surprised to see that he had thrown in with Fen'Harel. 

"State your purpose, Inquisitor," he snapped. The other mage sent an uncomfortable look his way, as if she was physically pained by his lack of politeness. 

"Nice to see you, too, ya great arse," grumbled Sera, dropping down to the spongy, peat-covered floor next to Ellana. The other elves didn't so much as flinch at her presence. 

"Um," Cole appeared on the other side of the Inquisitor. "Scouts ahead..."

"Yes, thank you, Cole." Ellana sighed in exasperation. The boy mumbled a bashful 'you're welcome'. "I'm sure you can imagine why I've come, Abelas," she went on, resisting the urge to dart a look behind her to where Mariel was concealed inside Cullen's coat. She could sense that Bull had moved his position to block the little lump in the Commander's clothes from view. "I seek an audience with the Dread Wolf."

The sentinel scoffed. "Yes, that much is clear. I'm more interested in why."

"I only wish to talk. We come here in peace," she declared. 

"Yet you come armed."

"We're not stupid." Krem shifted, leather armor creaking. 

"Abelas," the smaller mage whispered in a lilting accent. "Hahren said..."

"I know what he said," snarled Abelas, silencing the woman with a sharp motion. He seemed to consider the situation for a moment, glaring at the ground as he thought. "You may proceed, Inquisitor...alone."

"My sister goes nowhere without me," Evelyn spurred her hart forward with a determined set to her jaw. "And one other, for her protection."

The archer glanced to Abelas, who was practically steaming at the ears. He seemed to be on the verge of denying the request in the interest of preventing an outburst from the frustrated mage, but was interrupted by an oddly familiar voice. "The Dread Wolf agrees to these terms," the voice called from the branches above in a thick Antivan accent. A man cloaked in black, his hood embellished with what appeared to be a massive crow's skull leaned casually against the thick trunk of a maple. 

Abelas stiffened and spun to glare up at him. He growled, but seemed unable to disagree. With a jerk of a hand he motioned for the Inquisitor to pass. She nodded to Krem, and the three of them followed the female mage further into the trees. The rest of the party fell back several yards at Cullen's command, casually surrounding him and his precious cargo. 

"Miss Morrigan, are you well?" Dalish asked in her sing-song voice. "You look quite ill..."

"Bloody fucking hell in a handbasket..." the witch grumbled, lips drawn thin, eyes narrowed. The man who had granted the Inquisitor's passage had disappeared as quickly as he had shown up. "Of course that idiot is here, causing nothing but trouble as usual."

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! Please comment or message me with any questions, concerns, or constructive critiques.


	16. Chapter 16

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is dedicated to my big sister, who had lent me her Warden Evelyn for this story. HAPPY BIRTHDAY KRISTEN I LOVE YOU

Abelas lead the Inquisitor in a weaving path through the trees, grown tight and wild and untouched for who knows how long. Evelyn and Krem followed her closely, her sister gently squeezing her good hand. The smaller agent had fallen behind them, her staff loose in her hand, humming a vague, quiet tune. As they delved deeper into the untamed greenery, crumbling remains of ruins long fallen could be seen between the trees, grown over with creeping ivy and moss that dripped from the ledges like water. Trees grew right up through cracked stone, roots curling around the memories of a once mighty keep. The ruins had been hewn by skilled hands in a dark stone, shot through with veins of silver and gold, that once must have been polished to a blinding sheen, now lit only by the dull green light that filtered down through the dense canopy above. On the bigger hunks of stone, deeply etched Elvish script could be seen. Evelyn paused to try and make out some of the words, but Abelas made an angry noise and hurried her along. 

Not far ahead, the woods gave way to the remnants of a massive tiled room. Three walls remained standing tall and proud, etched in the same elaborate script, the fourth blown clear away in some kind of explosion, judging by the long black scorch marks that still marred the walls still standing and the leftover rubble scattered around the clearing. The floor was tiled with dusty red marble, littered with rubble, dead leaves and sticks, with deep gouges in the soft stone from whatever battle had been waged here. The script on the walls was surrounded by complex mosaics, many pieces having fallen out over time, leaving gaping holes in whatever picture its creators had woven. In the center of the room, elevated on slabs of polished black wood to form gleaming steps, sat a magnificent throne. Thick, crooked branches fanned out behind it like weathered, clawing fingers. The throne itself was carved from a pure, ivory wood, an ornate scene of cavorting wolves burned deeply into the base and across the headboard, the arms carved to resemble the snarling heads of a pair of six-eyed wolves.

Solas reclined easily in the throne, ankle resting on his knee, fingers steepled before him, grey eyes glittering over them. His golden armor gleamed, hugging his body so tightly, every piece must have been cast and sculpted for him and him alone. He sat forward, surveying the group with veiled suspicion and curiosity. His gaze flickered over Ellana, lingering for a single beat. 

"Welcome, vhenan," he murmured, voice carrying strangely through the clearing. Dozens of elves milled around, sharpening weapons, prepping supplies, and several standing like stone along the walls, clutching spears. Abelas and his companion mounted the stairs to stand beside the throne, joined by the cloaked man who had granted them passage, melting into sight from the shadows. Behind the farthest wall, there was a large wood and canvas construct, a lean-to big enough to house a small village. The smell of food cooking wafted from there, accompanied by the faint sounds of community, laughing and chattering, the clank and thump of objects being moved, the ring of metal being shaped. "You've certainly proven the worth of the Inquisition's resources. I hadn't expected to see you so soon after Halamshiral."

Evelyn's hand went to the small of her sister's back with a supportive nudge forward. The Inquisitor kept her face carefully still, but her shoulders trembled imperceptibly, and the polished wooden fingers of her prosthetic gave a stiff flex. "I have an offer for you, Dread Wolf," she declared, only the slightest hint of a tremor in her voice. "A deal to make."

Solas' eyebrows rose. "Dread Wolf, is it? And have you not a kind word for me after all this time?" His words were weightless, as though he hardly cared how she addressed him, but his eyes lingered with an undefinable sadness on the wooden hand. "Only some kind of ultimatum?" 

"You tore her arm off," Krem spat with a flat expression. Ellana put a stilling hand on his elbow to quiet him. Solas narrowed his eyes at the gesture and the way the lieutenant leaned into the touch just slightly. 

"In order to save her life," he said. "If there had been another way to keep the anchor from consuming her, flesh and bone, I assure you I would have done it." Solas shifted back in the throne, levelling a hard look at Krem. "Unless you would prefer I had simply left her to die?"

Cremisius bit back a snarl. 

"You saved my life," Ellana interrupted, holding up her hand, gears turning while the rune glowed faintly, her fingers giving a clunky wiggle. "At great cost. And now I offer you the same gift. You lied to me, betrayed my trust, and broke my heart...twice. And for all that, I still love you." Her voice broke on the words like thin glass. "But I cannot allow you to destroy the world I love for the sake of one that will never return. You've made it clear that in spite of my feelings, in spite of your own feelings for me, that you will not be swayed. But I have one more very good reason to beg you to rethink your plans, to find another way to return our people to glory. And if you still choose to proceed along this futile path, even after this..." she paused to gather her breath, her courage. Solas waited, burning with a quiet frustration, eyes narrowed as he listened intently to her words. "Then, having presented you with this chance, I will have no choice but to declare war against the Agency of Fen'Harel, conscience clear."

Agitated, outraged exclamations rose from the surrounding elves, all of whom had stopped what they were doing and drawn closer to listen. Shouts of 'traitor', 'shem-lover', and far less kind words were hurled at her, only to be silenced by a curt gesture from their leader. The soldiers lining the walls hadn't budged, likely trained not to move a muscle unless given a signal or direct command. Solas himself didn't look the least bit surprised, merely resigned, and terribly sad. 

"I understand," he murmured. "I wish it could be otherwise, but I do understand. What then, is this magnificent argument you hope will dissuade me from reclaiming the birthright of our people?" His tone was touched with sarcasm. His followers were stirring, mumbling amongst each other, shooting glares at the Inquisitor's little group, but were otherwise quiet. The female mage shifted with an uneasy glance at Fen'Harel.

At a glance from her sibling, Evelyn turned and headed back the way they'd come. Solas motioned to the guards who had moved to stop her, humoring his vhenan's dramatic flair with a silent, mild interest. She was only gone a moment before she returned, Cullen in tow. He held one hand behind them, leading someone else, standing so close to Evelyn that their shoulders bumped as they walked. They stopped at the Inquisitor's side and she lifted her chin with a defiant tilt, tears glittering unfallen in her violet eyes. "I would like to introduce you to someone, Dread Wolf," she announced.

"I have had the pleasure of meeting Commander Cullen already, vhenan," Solas chuckled.

"Not him, you egg," snapped Evelyn. Krem snorted loudly.

Ellana shot both of them a look that silenced them immediately. "Solas," she continued. "This is Mariel." Cullen stepped aside, revealing the little ginger-haired child, clutching his hand and her aunt's, wearing a beautiful little lace trimmed gown, wide violet eyes gazing solemnly up at the strange man sitting atop the tall throne. "She's your daughter."

Solas had sat up abruptly, expression shifting from wry amusement to confusion, then misty-eyed shock. He whirled in his seat to glare daggers and swords at the cloaked man behind him, who made an uncomfortable noise and side-stepped behind the smaller elven woman. Her mouth hung open in shock, green eyes bright, hands clasped at her heart. Abelas was pale and looked like he might be sick. Solas turned back to stare at the child, eyes narrowed, lips parted, brows angled up in a confused wonder. He slowly unfoled his lean body from the throne and made his way down the steps as if walking through a dream. 

He bent to one knee before her, staring in amazement at the pretty little creature shyly observing him from behind Cullen's leg. He smiled in disbelief and held out a large, slim hand to her. "An'daran atish'an, da'len..." he whispered, a tremor cracking in his throat. 

Mariel shuffled, glancing up at her mother with uncertainty furrowing her tiny brow. Ellana nodded her encouragement, and the child considered this intently before approaching with a cautious toddle, carefully placing her small hand in his. 

Tears shone in Solas' eyes as he took in every detail of her face, finding bits and pieces of himself there, and so much of Ellana it ached. "Da'vhenan, you are so beautiful..." he whispered, stroking her cheek with shaking, reverent fingers.

"Ma'serannas," she replied in her serious way. 

 _[You speak Elvhen well]_ He told her in their language.

 _[Mother taught me]_ replied the girl with a proud lilt. 

Solas looked up at Ellana. She was smiling with tears in her eyes as she watched Mariel and her father meeting for the first time. There was such pride in her look, and such sadness. 

"May I hold her?" he asked, breathless, begging. 

"Of course," Ellana choked on a laugh as a tear escaped, rolling down her cheek. "She is yours."

Solas scooped the girl up into his arms and stood, Mariel marvelling at her height while chubby fingers clutched the fur collar over his shoulder. He leaned his forehead against hers and closed his eyes, a smile on his lips somewhere between pride and melancholy. 

"Leave us," he commanded, turning abruptly to his forces. Hesitantly, they obeyed, both curious to see more of this family drama unfold and unwilling to leave their leader alone with a perceived enemy. They withdrew beyond the walls, melting into the shadows of the surrounding forest. Abelas and the other mage left reluctantly as well, but the cloaked man had fled already. "Would you walk with me, vhenan? Alone?" He aimed a pointed look at her sister and the two warriors. "My people will leave them in peace. They may fetch the rest of your party as well, if they wish." 

Evelyn looked like she wanted to disagree, while the two men beside her bristled and glared, but all kept their silence, deferring to the judgment of their Inquisitor. She nodded and fell in step with Solas as they made their way through the trees, along a barely visible footpath that had been almost completely grown over. Eager to explore, the solemn-faced Mariel squirmed to be let down, and ran ahead as soon as Solas complied with her silent demand.

"She certainly takes after you," he chuckled, keeping a sharp eye on the exploring toddler. 

Ellana smiled. "She gets a lot from you, too," she said. 

"Not too much, I hope," he joked, but it fell flat. They walked on in uncomfortable silence for a moment, watching Mariel stop to examine any stray wildflower or fallen leaf of shiny stone that caught her interest. "How old is she?" Solas asked at length.

"Nearly three, now..." replied Ellana. "She learns so quickly. She's smart, but she's a handful."

"Her Elvish is very good," there was a definite tone of pride in the Dread Wolf's voice.

"Evelyn and I speak to her only in the tongue of our people, at least as much as we know of it," the mother explained. "She's more fluent in Elvish, but she understands enough of Trade to figure out what people don't want her to do so she can do it anyway."

Solas laughed. "Of course she does. She's our child." They both chuckled over that, Solas shaking his head in wonder. " _Our_ child..." he murmured, watching in amusement as Mariel picked up a small rock and, after scrutinizing it closely, hurled it with all her tiny might at a nearby tree. It fell woefully short. "I am grateful you brought her here, vhenan," he told Ellana, closing a gentle hand over hers, heart tight in his chest. 

"You won't thank me when it comes to the deal I have for you," she informed him with a bitter, miserable edge to her voice. She was resigned, but determinedly so. Solas' face fell slightly.

"I'm sure. But let's not speak of that now. For the moment, I'd prefer to stave off the inevitable and enjoy the company of my daughter." He laughed again. "How strange it is to say that...I have a daughter..." he gazed after the child, misty-eyed.

"You get used to it."

"I would imagine so." 

They emerged from the shelter of the trees to the bank of a small fresh-water lake that glittered with dark stones shot through with veins of silver and gold, like the material the ruins had been constructed with. Mariel shrieked and tore off on tottering legs toward the water. 

 _[You stay out of that water, Mariel!]_ her mother called after her with a stern quality that Solas recognized well. It was her Inquisitor Voice, the one she used to command armies and cow great beasts. He smiled to hear it.

They sat near the water's edge on a pair of moss-covered rocks, catching up while they watched their daughter do everything in her power to tear her dress, dirty her face, and tangle her hair. She jumped up and down in the shallows, splashing everywhere, found a tree and attempted to climb it, jumped off a rock and landed on her bottom in a puddle, and when her mother scolded her for terrorizing a family of squirrels, she ripped up a handful of small, white flowering weeds and presented them as an apology.

 _[How lovely,]_ Solas told her gently, accepting them as she shyly pressed them into his hands as well. As the girl scampered off to see what other trouble she could managed, Solas threaded his fingers through Ellana's. Her muscles tensed briefly, but it was so simple to to relax and lean against his shoulder, her head dropping to rest just beneath the strong line of his jaw. Solas rested his cheek against her, inhaling the soft, sweet scent of her hair. "Ar lath ma, vhenan," he whispered, voice thick in his throat, pressing a long, loving kiss to the top of her head.

Ellana squeezed his hand and lifted her head, pressing her cheek to his, noses brushing, as their foreheads met and they gazed deeply into each other's eyes. Solas mentally traced each feature, the slope of her nose, the line of her jaw, the curve of her cheek, the swell of her lips, so close to his. His lips parted and brushed against hers as soft and ephemeral as a wisp of cloud.

"Solas," she whispered, slowly trailing her hand up his arm to rest against his chest as he wrapped his arm around her waist, drawing her close. 

They were jolted apart by the sudden explosion of water as Mariel hurled a large rock into the lake and shrieked with joy at her own cleverness. There was a large rend in the seam of her sleeve and the lacy bottom of her dress was soaked and covered in mud and grass. 

"Well," Ellana sighed. "It was a pretty gown while it lasted." Solas laughed.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! Please comment or message me with any questions, concerns, or constructive critiques.


	17. Chapter 17

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> SMUT!!!!!!!!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> SMUT WARNING!  
> There's some nasty stuff in this chapter.  
> And by nasty I mean wonderful.  
> And by wonderful I mean here is a quick checklist:
> 
> -Unhealthy relationships  
> -100% CONSENSUAL!!!!!!!!!  
> -Breast milk  
> -some light clit torture (again, still consensual!)  
> -Dread snuggles

Back at the camp, the Inquisitor's hunting party had regrouped, watched by the wary eyes of Fen'Harel's agents. They had set up their own camp, separate from the elves, despite Merrill's repeated invitations and assurances that they would be welcome to join the main force under the massive lean-to that had been built against the ruin wall. She and Evelyn spoke briefly in low voices, friendly if perhaps a bit guarded, and the smaller mage elected to sit at their fire instead of rejoining in little village of refugees. Abelas was nowhere to be seen, presumably having retired to his own quarters to sulk or brood or whatever it was he did in his spare time, but the cloaked man, whom Evelyn was certain she had seen before, could occasionally be seen beyond the wall, assisting with various sundry tasks. 

"So...Merrill. What can you tell us about your plans here?" asked Evelyn, as casually as she could manage.

The other elf hesitated. "Well. Fen'Harel's intentions are to return the magic of the Fade to our people, to make the world as it was before the fall of Arlathan," she explained. "He intends to bring down the Veil, as I'm sure you already know...but I cannot tell you how he means to do it. I am sorry." She seemed to mean it, her eyebrows pulled up in apology. 

"Aren't you at all concerned what that might do to this world?" Dorian asked sharply.

"Of course," Merrill responded with an innocent flicker of her eyelids. "There are always risks that must be taken when you're fighting for change, always risks when dealing with the Fade. But isn't it better than the alternative? Complacency hurts far more than it helps, and in the meantime our people will suffer regardless."

"What of those who are not your people?" Morrigan snapped. 

"When have your people ever cared for mine?" The small woman's voice wasn't malicious. She stated a fact, and if there was a slightly bitter edge to her voice, it was softened by the misty beginnings of tears in her large eyes. "Over and over we have been thrown down by humans, taken advantage of and then tossed aside when we ceased to be useful. Why should our people care what happens to the shemlen?"

Evelyn disagreed, but she couldn't help but see her point, couldn't help the little smirk Merrill's words brought to her lips. Morrigan sputtered angrily, but she was interrupted before she could protest. "But...We have considered the danger to others," Merrill went on. "Destruction is not necessarily our goal, even if it may be caused as a result. Fen'Harel does not make his plans lightly. He doesn't wish for there to be any more pain than absolutely necessary, but if lifting our people back up must be done on the bones of those who enslaved us and cast us down in the first place..." She raised her eyes. "It is a price worth paying."

"To you, maybe." Dorian huffed. "What of those who will be the currency?"

"You mean people who already trade lives like currency?" Sera piped up. "Slavers and shite? Who cares. All this elfy crap is too much for me, but if it's between a bunch of money-grubbin slavers and this lot?" She jabbed a thumb at the camp behind them where families were gathered around fires, sharing food and water and stories. "I know who I'd make into a pincushion."

"You'd be no better than they are, in that case."

"Rising up against an oppressor can hardly be compared to crushing an entire culture of people under your heel!"

"Enough." The Dread Wolf's voice rang out through the clearing. Mariel ran ahead of her parents as they emerged from the trees, flinging herself into Krem's lap with a joyous screech. He had very carefully avoided the conversation, sitting quietly with the Chargers instead. "Dorian won't be swayed by anything you could say, da'len, and our cause won't be halted by his words, either. This arguing is pointless for the time being," continued Solas. He spoke to the group, but his icy gaze fell on Krem with a frown. The young man ignored him, focusing his attention on the squirming toddler grabbing at his nose.

Ellana leaned down to speak to Krem, murmuring close to his ear. "Cremisius...would you...watch her for a bit?" she asked, a shy sort of shame in her eyes.

He sighed. "Are you going to tell him, or are you going to sleep with him?"

The woman frowned, and straightened. "Nevermind," she said in a quiet mutter, hurt and tears in her eyes. "I'll ask my sister..."

"El, wait." Krem grabbed her hand. He could feel Solas' eyes boring into him. "I'm...sorry. That was unworthy. Just...be careful. I won't see you hurt by his hand again. You've got more to risk this time around." He hugged Mariel closer, feeling possessive of her in a way he'd rarely experienced. Separating from her mother certainly hadn't diminished his love for the child.

"I can handle this. Really. But, thank you for caring." She smiled and pressed a light kiss to his forehead, then kissed her daughter. She and Evelyn shared a look before the Inquisitor was swept away on the arm of Fen'Harel, toward the larger camp behind the ruins.

The group of travellers watched them go in silence.

"Alright," Cullen was the first to break it. "What the hell was that about?"

Krem grumbled. "She's gonna bang him, even though it's a terrible idea."

"Great."

"She knows what she's doing," snapped Evelyn. "I...hope."

 

* * *

 

 

Ellana found herself in the middle of the largest gathering of aravel she'd ever seen. She'd never seen so many elves in one place, and she'd been to Halamshiral's elvhen districts. Fen'Harel's numbers made her little township at Skyhold seem laughable.

"How...the hell...?" she whispered.

"A very complicated series of wards keeps us hidden, usually," he answered. "Out here, I assumed we needn't worry about it. You've proven me wrong, yet again." Solas smiled at her with an odd pride. He didn't seem upset that she'd managed to track them down, only impressed. 

"You're too cocky," she smiled. "You always underestimate my ability to end up exactly where I shouldn't."

There was a glint in his grey eyes as he steered her toward a large tent. It wasn't the largest by far, as those had apparently been reserved for families, but it was clearly the dwelling of a leader. "And where do you think you'll end up next, vhenan?" His voice rumbled low in his throat.

"Exactly where I shouldn't."

She had only enough time for a vague impression of canvas walls hung with woven tapestries and floors covered in furs and rugs to keep the cold out as Solas held the flap of the tent open for her. As soon as it slid from his fingers, they were pulling at the lacings of her dress. She spun and caught his lips in a hungry kiss, the leather cord snapping against her back as he yanked it free, his tongue already in her mouth. He steered her toward the corner, where a thick feather pallet waited for them, heaped with furs and quilts. Solas slid the dress down her shoulders, slipping her arms careful out of the sleeves without parting his lips from hers. She removed the stiff wooden arm by releasing a few buckles and let it fall to the floor with a clunk, her bodice pooled around her waist. She tore one-handed at the buckles and straps that held his golden armor tight against his lean, muscled body while he made quick work of her chemise and dropped her skirts to her feet. They parted long enough for him to shed his armor, chainmail jangling loudly in his haste, and for her to remove her boots and stockings.

Stripped down to his breeches, Solas fell upon her, cradling her head with tender care even as he pushed her roughly into the bed. Teeth found her neck and she cried out, writhing with her arms tight around him. She was already grinding eagerly against his thigh, already beginning to feel wet and slick.

"I don't think so, vhenan," he hissed, licking and nibbling at her ear. "Not yet."

"Solas, please--"

His fingers dug into her, one hand buried in her hair, the other pressing her hips to the mattress. "No. You've had your fun with that mercenary boy." Ellana's breath caught in her throat, terror seizing her with a tight icy fist around her heart, but he went on with a dangerously low purr. "I, however, have not had that luxury. I intend to enjoy you. Fully. As long and as slowly and as thoroughly as I please."

"F-fuck..." Her chest heaved.

Fen'Harel chuckled. "Oh, yes, ma lath. You do find your way into trouble..." He captured a reddening nipple in his mouth and sucked hard. A warm gush of sweet cream filled his mouth and he groaned louder than he meant to at the unexpected surprise. "Fenhedis lasa, Mythal ma halani," he cursed, grinding his hardening length against her, panting. "You still have your mother's milk...Fenhedis..." Growling, feral and wild, he licked his lips and sought out the other breast, the nipple beginning to leak the warm white fluid. Ellana groaned, cupping the back of his head, nails scraping the bare skin.

"I've...been trying to wean her..." she gasped by way of explanation. "It's the worst. I'm always sore..."

Solas nodded in understanding, taking another long pull from her breast, making sure she saw the way he licked his lips again, eyes burning dark with hunger. "Allow me to relieve you..." he purred, lowering his mouth for another taste of her. 

When he'd sated his curiosity and his thirst, he moved down, kissing a line over her soft belly, tongue tracing the pale scars stretched over her sides. She sighed and urged him lower, her quivering thighs already parted to welcome him. The pressure that had been constantly building in her breasts had lifted, and the way he lingered so lovingly over the jagged stretch marks that clawed their way over her softened stomach set her heart soaring. "You've become so much more beautiful than I had ever thought..." he murmured, kissing her navel. "Motherhood suits you very well, vhenan."

Any reply she might have given was lost in her throat as Solas slipped his fingers inside her, pushing through labia glossed with her juices to explored her anew. She was still familiar, his clever fingers finding her favorite spots quickly, stroking and pushing and working her until she was squirming under his touch, his intent gaze trapping her eyes the whole time. His tongue slipped against her clit and she gasped. Smiling against her wetness, he teased lower, sucked at every bit of her until her sex was swollen and engorged with pleasure, pink and slick, glistening in the candlelight. Her breathy keens filled his ears as he worked, fingers curling within her, thrusting with a cruel pace that had her fingers twisting in the sheets below her. Ellana sobbed when he released her, silenced by his mouth descending upon hers, and she devoured him, relishing her own taste on his lips. His hand continued to work her, his palm striking her tight bud with a juicy slap each time he thrust into her. 

She screamed his name as she came, clinging to him as he sped up, spurring her orgasm on until she begged him for mercy, clasping a hand over his to still his assault on her overly sensitive clitoris. He didn't remove his hand, but his movements stilled. He pulled her against his chest as she quaked around him, stroking her hair with his free hand as she gradually came down enough for him to take his fingers back without causing her distress. Ellana whimpered as delved back between her legs, soothing the flaming bud with slow, gentle strokes of his tongue, just enough to keep her going without overloading her again. 

Then, just as she was beginning to relax again, his thumb pressed down and pulled back the hood of her clit, treating her to a long, firm lick that had her screaming, her hips bucking hard against his face as her back arched up off the bedding. Then he was sucking at her, rolling each labia between his lips, teasing them with gentle teeth while she swore and twitched and wailed, her thighs locked around his neck. She panted his name between every breath, Solas, Solas, Solas, YES! No, don't stop, please for mercy's sake don't stop until she didn't even know what she was saying anymore. 

He gave her another moment to catch her breath against his chest, her hair sweaty and tangled around them. "How much longer do you think I could do this, vhenan?" He whispered against the tip of her ear as he smoothed wet hair back from her forehead. "How many more hours do you suppose I could have you screaming for me?"

"Ah...wh--HOURS?"

"Oh yes," he assured her with easy grace. "Days, perhaps, if you'd like."

"No!"

He laughed, long and hard, his face pressed to her cheek. "As you say, vhenan. Just hours then. Two? Four? How long could I keep you floundering on the precipice of pleasure until you're overwhelmed?" 

"I...I'm already..." Her breast rose and fell, sweat dripping from her skin. Solas covered each soft mound with gentle, loving kisses.

"Oh, ma lath, you're nowhere near overwhelmed yet. I could reduce you to nothing more than a puddle, tease your beautiful little cunt until your voice is lost, until you're sobbing and begging, and you don't know whether you want me to stop or just finish you off already." His breath crawled across her skin and she whimpered again, violet eyes wide and blown out with ecstasy.

"Solas..." she murmured on lips thick and swollen from his kisses. "Nuvenan...nuvenan pala em sule ar'ha'misa."

Her words dragged a long hiss from between his teeth along with a slew of vivid swears. "Not yet, vhenan..." he managed with a heated kiss. "I've yet to have my fill of you..."

"No, no more..." she moaned, a hand cupping her pulsing sex. 

Solas chuckled and stroked her hair with a reassuring gentility. "No, no, I won't torture you any longer...at least not there..." He tilted her chin to look up at him and kissed her long and deep, pulling her over him as he laid back and stretched out languorously. Her skilled fingers had his breeches unlaced in a heartbeat, and then he was in her hand, warm and hard and pulsing with need. He hummed pleasantly into her mouth as she gave him a long, slow pump with her fist, and another.

She parted her lips from his and lowered herself between his legs, letting her breath play over his twitching member before she took the leaking, velvety head into her mouth and sucked. Solas let out a sharp breath and arched into the sensation, fingers tangling into her hair, pulling it back out of her face so he could watch her work. Ellana took her time with him as he had with her, bobbing over the tip of him, pressing her tongue to the thin slit and swirling it around him until his hips jerked dangerously. With a wicked smile, she sank him deeper into her mouth, dragging her tongue against the underside of his length on her way down. She sucked and bobbed, letting saliva drip down his cock until each dip of her head, each drag of her lips against him produced slick, wet noises that had him writhing. 

He tugged at her hair, gentle, just enough to bring her back up, crawling up to meet his lips in a crushing kiss while he settled her comfortably on his thighs, cock pulsing between them. 

"I want you, Solas..." she whispered, bracing herself over him on her good arm. That wicked little smirk spread her lips again. "Dread wolf take me."

He growled, grinning at her with a predatory hunger that harkened his namesake all too well. "Beg me," he hissed.

"Solas...please..." She gasped as he took hold of her hips and ground her against himself, teasing her with his cock. "Sathan, pala em sule ar'ha'misa...pala ma'edhas..." With each fevered plea, Solas rolled her hips up his length, savoring the words that dripped from her lips like honey, the honey that dripped from her sweet cunt and pooled around the base of him. Her breathing hitched in her chest, words caught in her throat, but she kept begging still. "Neran ihn bre’palas, i vallasan bredhas i’ma’da’vin. Sathan, Fen'Harel, isalan alas’nira aron fen’en--AHH!"

At this last request, he slipped the engorged head of his penis into her, slick enough to slide right to the hilt. He held her there against his hips while she recovered from the shock of him, then rolled against her. Ellana groaned, low and trembling. He was warm and thick inside her, filling her out and pushing against her in just the right places. She rocked her hips, her hand pressed to his heart, and they built up a leisurely pace, their panting breaths mingling and joined in quick, fleeting kisses. Bracing his back against the bed, Solas thrust up into her with a rough jerk that knocked the air from her lungs. She collapsed into his arms as they surrounded her, held her tightly to him and he fucked up into her in long, slow strokes. Her fingers dug into his skin, nails leaving brilliant red marks in the pale flesh. 

"Pala em elvar’el...Solas, elvar'el, elvar'el, sarthan!" she cried, burying her face in his neck as he increased his pace, his fingers squeezing her hips, digging into the pliant flesh as he obeyed and drove into her with more force. The tent was filled with the wet slap of skin against skin, of warm fluids flowing freely over thighs, seeping into the sheets beneath them. 

"Oh, vhenan..." he moaned, loud as he'd never dared to in their time at Skyhold. "Ma lath, ma vhenan, ha’mi’in, lasa em tua rosas’da’din...jutuan ma ir rosas’da’din, ma tel’aman melin..." His voice was harsh and heavy, gasping in between breaths that burned his lungs. His legs shook with the effort of driving into her, whole body tensed and coiled like a snake, ready to snap. Ellana was a mess of half-mad pleas, hardly knowing what she begged for anymore. Each thrust brought a fresh gush of her, flowing over his stomach, forming pools in the hollows of his hips. 

"FUCK, Ellana!" he finally cried, cock pulsing with release as spurts of his seed filled her until it dripped out around him as he made the last few desperate thrusts he had in him. "Ellana..." he murmured again once he was spent. She was curled on his chest, trembling and whimpering, but with a satisfied smile on her lips as she pressed them to his. 

The Dread Wolf sighed with a contentment he had forgotten long ago. He pulled a soft fur over them and ran long fingers through his lover's hair as she drifted off comfortably in his arms, whispering praise against her forehead and powdering her cheeks with kisses. 

Tomorrow, they would discuss her terms.

Tonight was for loving her, for breathing her in while he slept, for reminding himself what he stood to lose.

He had never doubted whether the cost was worth the object. He had doubted much, but never that.

Not until today. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AHAHAHAHAHHA
> 
> Elvhen translations:  
> Fenhedis lasa - A swear  
> Mythal ma halani - Mythal save me  
> nuvenan pala em sule ar'ha'misa - I want you to fuck me until I scream  
> Sathan- Please  
> Neran ihn bre’palas, i vallasan bredhas i’ma’da’vin - I like it when you fuck me deep and paint my insides with your cum.  
> pala ma'edhas - fuck my pussy  
> Isalan alas’nira aron fen’en - I lust to dance as the wolves do  
> Ha’mi’in. Lasa em tua rosas’da’din - Relax. Let me make you cum  
> Jutuan ma ir rosas’da’din, ma tel’aman melin. - I will make you cum so much you won't remember your name (a personal favorite)


	18. Chapter 18

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> i don't even know what im doing

The Inquisitor’s entourage had set up camp around their fire pit, pitching their tents in a tight circle. The mages in the party had set up a series of protective wards, and Sera had rigged a few simple traps with the help of Rocky and the other Chargers. Still, Ellana knew the feel of her sister’s magic enough to slip through without much trouble. Evelyn would sense her presence, maybe even wake up long enough to take note of it, but the carefully woven net would part for her, as it always did. 

She crept into Krem’s tent, wrapped in a robe that was far too long for her, slipping through on bare feet to kneel beside his sleeping form. Mariel was curled against his side, tiny fist bunched in his worn linen tunic, drooling on his unbound chest. Krem held the toddler close with one arm, the other thrown up over his head, face pressed into it and snoring softly.

He woke with a confused inhale when a gentle hand pressed his shoulder, blinking up at Ellana with bleary eyes, momentarily startled by the glint of her eyes in the low light. He grumbled incoherently and rolled onto his side, hugging Mariel closer. Ellana laughed under her breath and clambered over his bulk to wrestle her daughter free. Voice thick with sleep, Krem grumped wordless protests at her and tightened his hold.

“Krem!” She shook his arm, still laughing through whispered words. “Krem, let go, I need her!”

“No, I don’ wanna grmblmblr….” he garbled.

“Cremisius!” she hissed and shook him again. Finally, the young man was roused enough from the haze of sleep to realize what was happening and relinquished his hold on Mariel with no small amount of reluctance. Ellana cradled her daughter against her chest, brow wrinkled in concern. “Are you alright?”

“M’fine…” he mumbled, facedown in his pillow.

“You miss Maryden?” 

Even in the dark, she could see the color rise in his cheeks. “N-no...I mean, of course I miss her, but…” He lifted himself partially on his arms and leveled his gaze at the elf. “I know  _ she’s _ at least safe at Skyhold. Right now I’m more worried about you.”

“Krem, please don’t--”

“You are literally sleeping in the wolf’s den right now, El.” His words came out harder than he meant them, and Krem took a deep breath to calm himself. Getting upset with her wouldn’t do anything but make her more reckless. “I’m just being protective...I--I can’t see you hurt like that again, El. I  _ can’t. _ ” His fingers brushed against the stump of her arm, wrapped and knotted in the excess sleeve of her robe, but it was clear he wasn’t referring to her arm. “You still mean a lot to me. Mariel...I know I’ll never be--I just…” 

Ellana pressed a long kiss to his forehead, silencing him. “I know, Krem,” she said with a smile as she stood to leave. “I’ll be fine. I know what I’m doing, I promise. But...thank you.” Cradling her daughter one handed, she slipped back out into the night, the soft patter of her footsteps fading as she hurried back. Krem waved an absent hand after her, raked his through his hair with a worried frown, then flopped back down on his bedroll with an exasperated sigh. 

 

Solas awoke the next morning with a weight on his chest. This wasn’t unusual; every morning he felt the heavy press of the world, of his people, of his guilt slowly pushing him down into the dirt, grinding him to dust. What was unusual about this particular weight was that it was decidedly physical rather than metaphorical, and exuded warmth and softness rather than pain. 

Ice blue eyes snapped open. He looked down to find a wispy tuft of strawberry hair tickling his nose. Somehow, Mariel had found her way into the tent and was sprawled across his torso, limbs akimbo, with her fat little cheek pressed against his chest. Ellana was nestled in the crook of his arm, her head resting on his shoulder, dark lashes dusting the freckles on her cheeks as she slept. 

He ached. His heart twisted, tightening until surely it must burst within him. They looked so much alike, so lovely and angelic together in the stinging white light of early morning. It pained him to look upon their mirrored features, but he couldn’t tear his eyes away, no matter how the burned. Careful not to wake them, he lifted a tentative, trembling hand to brush the downy strands of hair from his daughter’s forehead. 

His daughter.

He choked back a sudden sob that strained his throat and shook his chest, threatening to give him away. A long finger traced the round curve of her freckled little cheek. Rosebud lips twitched in her sleep, suckling at the air with a soft noise. Solas touched the tip of his finger to the miniscule little dimple in her chin, a twin of his own. Salt stung his eyes. He took in shallow, shuddering breaths through his nose, willing his lips not to quiver. She was everything. She wasn’t merely half of him, and half of Ellana. She was everything that comprised them both, and so much more because she was also her own, a little shining light of potential clinging to his nightshirt. 

“Home of the people.” A simple, childish word that had already begun to fade by the time he was born. He remembered reading it for Ellana, carved upon a slab in a temple. A jab, then. How bitter she must have felt then, alone in her birthing room. How frightened. Again, guilt settled hard as a stone in his stomach as tears slipped down his cheeks, following the long line of his nose.

A gentle touch brushed a dewy tear away, startling him. Ellana had awoken and was gazing up into his eyes with a pained expression.

Solas chuckled and wiped his face. “You are cruel to me, vhenan.”

“I know,” her voice was soft, choked with misery.

“I suppose it is no less than I deserve.”

“I told you, bringing her here was no kindness.”

Mariel squirmed and woke with an irritated squawk. Ellana murmured soothing words to her in Elvhen and gathered the fussing thing into her arms. She arranged the girl awkwardly in the crook of her left arm, Solas belatedly moving to assist. He noticed the robe she wore was one of his as she pushed the folds of silk aside and let her daughter breakfast noisily. Solas watched in awe while Ellana took in her surroundings in the morning light.

Against one canvas wall was a large war table, a map spread out across it and held down by ornate Dalish daggers. In one corner stood a bare armor stand with a large, elaborately crafted sword etched with runes that gleamed with a faint blue aura mounted across the wooden hands of the stand. There was an overflowing bookcase in another corner, a low table in the center of the room for dining, with pillows scattered around it for sitting on, a small wood-burning oven with an iron teapot set atop it, and a trunk at the foot of the bed for clothes. Tapestries covered the canvas walls to keep out the cold, and furs and rugs warmed the floor. 

“Aren’t you meant to be meaning her?” Solas asked quietly, catching her attention again. He was entranced by the way his daughter suckled with a hungry greed at the creamy breast of his lover. This was nothing at all like the depraved acts of the previous night. The image was pure, untainted by lust, Ellana’s long hair spread behind her and glinting copper in the morning sun, skin aglow as she lay back against the pillows, cradling the gingery little child as she drank her fill.

“She feeds in the mornings,” explained Ellana, adjusting her breast absently with her remaining hand. “Solid food for lunch and dinner, and if she won’t go down for the night, she may suckle until she sleeps. She’s getting better at sleeping without it, and Krem figured out a wet cloth will serve just as well at night.” She sighed, gazing down at her girl with fondness shining in her violet eyes. Solas tried to ignore the angry boil in his blood as he pictured the mercenary coddling his child. “Really, it’s me that needs to be weaned...I will miss this…”

“You might always have another,” Solas suggested in a hushed voice, moving closer to watch Mariel’s solemn little face. 

The woman snorted. “With whom exactly? I’m not exactly swimming in suitors.”

The Dread Wolf fixed her with a penetrating, smoky look. “With me,” he said, low in his throat. “Let me give you another child, let me be here for you this time...let me make up for what I lost, for the burden I left you to bear.”

His impassioned plea hadn’t had quite the effect he intended. The Inquisitor’s eyes hardened, and Mariel squirmed, sensing her mother’s change in mood. “Do you think anything you do could possibly make up for what you threw away?” she snapped. “For what you did to me? To _her_? Getting another child on me isn’t going to solve everything!” Mariel whimpered in her arms, no longer feeding. Her eyes moved between her mother and this strange, new, hairless Krem. "Did you actually think you could make it all up to me by...by using me to spread your seed?”

“Ellana, I _never_ \--” he began with an angry rumble before she cut him off.

“You wouldn’t have even cared if I hadn’t shown up with her! You would have just gone on your merry way with this twice-cursed plan of yours--”

“And what makes you think I won’t still?” he bit out. “Mariel’s existence changes nothing, does not erase my responsibility to the people!”

The toddler was whining now, Ellana bouncing her gently and pressing her close. “You would go on with this madness? Risk the life of your own child?” Incredulous tears streamed down her cheeks. “And you’d even bring another child into a world you plan to destroy! What, are you going to sow yourself an army on me? Use them to further your goals?” 

Solas was on his feet at this, the air around him crackling with fury. “Do you think that I would ever reduce everything you are to me to--to some...broodmare?!” he thundered, fists clenched at his sides. Mariel burst into tears, wailing red-faced against her mother’s bosom, who held her tighter, bristling defensively. “You are the love of my life, Ellana! I left to protect _you_ , to remake this world for _you_ , to raise _your_ people up from the dirt, to show you the wonders of a world unshackled! A world where our people, our children will not be spat upon as vermin, or locked away from us in a tower for fear of their magic!”

In the midst of this enraged proclamation, Evelyn stumbled into the tent, rubbing sleep from her eyes, her long black curls rioting in a tangled mess around her. Grumbling to herself, she took the screaming child from Ellana’s arms, and stumbled back out, bouncing the girl with a tired yawn as she went. Neither parent appeared to have taken much notice, except that Ellana was now on her feet, hands planted on her hips. She may have been shorter than Solas by nearly a foot, but in her tremulous rage, she practically towered over him.

“You’re doing this for yourself!” she screamed. “No one fucking asked you to do any of that for  _me!_ You’re doing it because you fucked up, but you know what, Solas? You can’t unfuck this without fucking up the rest of the fucking world for the fucking sake of a Thedas that no one but you fucking remembers, you--you fucking….EGG!” She took a deep breath, trembling and red in the face. “FUCK!”

Solas stared her down with eyes that smoldered coldly. “You’re right,” he murmured.

“You’re damn right I’m--what?” Her expression faltered from furious to confused with a stalled little flicker. 

“You are correct. About everything. Nearly everything.” His tone was measured, back in control, but choked with tears unshed. He began to pace, hands wringing in front of him. “My motives, while certainly selfish, are not entirely so. I want your people to know what it is you be seen the way they deserve, as equal citizens, as a people descended from the originators of all life and culture in Thedas as you know it in these times! The world builds their civilization on the bones of my people and maintains it on the backs of yours, enslaved either by human masters or by the poison of poverty. I want the world to know the joy of magic unbound and unfeared, as I once did, for mages to be admired and cherished rather than jailed for nothing more than their natural talents! 

“All of this I strive for, and all of it I have stalled for more than two years, trying to find a way to undo my own work without risking the lives of Thedas, of a world denied to the Elvhen even as it is forged from their blood and bones.” He ceased his pacing and turned back to Ellana with an imploring gaze. She was watching him with large, tear-filled eyes, the red anger drained from her face. “I have been trying, vhenan. I have. I would not doom your world so easily.”

The Inquisitor stood in silence for a moment. “But you would doom it.” she whispered. “If there were no other way, you would doom it.”

“I...don’t know.” His admission was simple, a helpless shrug, spreading his hands in front of him. “Perhaps? Before, I was certain...but, now?” Solas sighed and let his head drop. “I don’t know. I don’t know what to  _ do _ , ma lath…”

She took a hesitant step forward, and another, until she could wrap her arms around him, leaning up on tiptoe. The Dread Wolf buried his tear-stained face into her hair, clutching her to his chest. With a sniff, he pulled away again, only for her to guide him back down. Their lips found each other and they kissed, soft and quavering. His hands tangled in the hair at the base of her neck and he angled her face further up, loving at her with his tongue, gentle strokes across her lips, tentative, almost shyly meeting her tongue with his. Her hands moved to cup the side of his neck and his cheek. One arm circled her waist and drew her closer even as he stepped forward and pushed a thigh between her legs, unbalancing her in a way that had a familiar ache shooting through Ellana’s heart. She relaxed into him, knowing his arm would support her weight, that he wouldn’t let her stumble or fall while they explored each other as though each path was new and fresh, even when they could have traced each one from memory. 

Their lips parted, but their bodies remained wound together. Ellana heaved a tired sigh as she stroked the smooth pane of his cheek. “Why did you leave me?” she asked without malice.

“I thought I was doing what was best,” he choked, straightening, but keeping her secure in his arms. “I felt I had a responsibility to you, to your people, to return to you your legacy...I knew if I stayed, my resolve would waver, and I would abandon that responsibility for the temptation of an easy retirement...to put my comfort, our relationship above the plight of the people...I could not allow myself that.” One hand trailed tenderly over what remained of her left arm. He wondered if it still pained her. It must, it hadn’t been all that long ago that he’d been forced to sunder it from her forever. “I’d already caused you so much pain...I was obsessed with you, vhenan. I would have thrown everything away to be with you, but...I could not allow that. So I left...while I still had the resolve, damn me, I left.”

Ellana soothed the choked sob with another gentle caress. “Solas...you are the world’s greatest fool.”

A strangled laugh left his throat at the murmured words. “Some Dread Wolf…” he said with a bitter tone. “And now, I have a new responsibility...to my daughter. To _our_ daughter.” His brow furrowed. “Vhenan, you had terms for me, did you not?”

She bit her lip hard and hid her face in his chest. “Yes...it--you will not be pleased.”

Solas couldn’t restrain an amused snort. “No, I don’t suppose I will me.”

They were silent for a long moment, breathing together, each relishing the comfort of resting the other’s arms, even if only for now. 

Ellana pulled away first, eyes locked with his. “If you don’t find a way to give up this madness…” she said at length. “You will never be permitted to see your daughter again.”

The corners of his eyes narrowed, but never strayed from her piercing gaze.

“There will be no visits,” she went on. “No letters. You won’t even be able to find her in the Fade. I will make sure of it.”

“Do you truly think you can keep me from her?” he asked, voice low and dangerous.

“I managed it this long,” she reminded him with a stubborn jut of her chin. He certainly couldn’t deny that. “The Well has taught me much, and I have listened.” 

“I could compel you. Force you to stay, or to leave her with me. You are bound to the will of Mythal, whose spirit I now possess.” His eyes were cold, hard like ice. 

“You could.” She held firm.

There was another tense silence. Solas sighed.

“I would never,” he admitted quietly.

Ellana relaxed a bit. “Then you have a choice to make, don’t you?”

“It would seem so.”

 

Solas helped Ellana to dress, pinning her sleeve up and tightening the laces of her gown, even strapping her leather armor on before assisting her with her prosthetic. He examined it with great interest, seeming quite impressed. 

“It does not trouble you, vhenan?” he asked uncertainly.

She frowned, testing the fit and flexing the gears. “Well, I’d rather have an actual arm...but, the prosthetic works well. It took some getting used to, and I still struggle with it sometimes...but I’ve adjusted. Plus, I can do this!” There was a bowl of tree nuts on a low table. She plucked one out and crushed it in the mechanical fist. The shell shattered easily, leaving her to enjoy the spoils, popping the nut into her mouth with a satisfied smirk. Solas laughed as he began pulling on his own clothing and armor. 

Their awkward truce lasted long enough for them to get properly dressed and set the low table for some tea. 

"I will need time," Solas started. He sipped from his cup, wrinkled his nose, and swallowed. "I must consider my options--"

"Your options are few," Ellana reminded him. "End this, or lose your daughter."

"What would you have me do, ma lath?" he demanded. "What should I tell the elves who have flocked to this cause, who clamor for what we've lost? That I choose the life of a single child over all of theirs?"

"Either way, their lives are forfeit. Their best bet for a chance at a new world is to  _live,"_ she shot back. "You have the power to raise our people up, to make this world better for our child, and instead you would burn it all to ashes! You could give up this mad plan of yours, come back to Skyhold, and we can raise Mariel together. She will inherit the Keep, and it's lands. It is held by Clan Lavellan now, in my name."

"And what of my followers?" He pointed an emphatic finger toward the entrance of his tent, where the stirrings of life were beginning as elves woke and began their days. "What of them? Shall I disband them and leave them to whatever fate awaits them?"

"Bring them!" Ellana replied, leaning forward. "We've been expanding, and building new villages for the Elvhen refugees who wish to preserve their own clans rather than pledge to mine. Each clan's Keeper will have a position on Skyhold's council. For the first time since the fall of our people, elves have a home, a _real_ home with lands of our own! Evelyn has already been invited to Ferelden's high council as a major landowner. With our contacts, we're uncovering more and more of our lost history and culture. We've added two hundred new words to our lexicon! We have a circle dedicated to the old magics, with no locks on the doors, and a school room to teach our children all of this! We could develop and lead a true nation of our people, a united one." The Inquisitor paused for breath. "There is more than one way to make amends, Solas." Her voice dropped to a gentle hush. She held her good hand out across the table to him. "With your knowledge, your abilities, we could do great things for our people, here and now."  


He stared at her hand for a long moment, uncertainty and longing warring on his face. 

A sudden, deafening blast rocked the forest. Ellana was knocked onto her side, clipping her forehead on the side of the table.  Solas was at her side immediately, staunching the flow of blood at her temple with a trembling hand, warm with healing magic. The shadows of flames could be seen outside the tent. Screams and the sounds of battle reached their ears, metal ringing against metal and men and women shouting. 

"Mariel!" gasped Ellana, clawing to her feet with Solas' help. He seized the glowing sword from the armor rack and followed as she bolted from the tent, screaming for her daughter. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> oops


	19. Chapter 19

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lets just pretend that Morrigan can turn into a dragon anyway even if the Inquisitor drank from the well of sorrows  
> unrelated to plot  
> I just wanted Morrigan to be a dragon

Flames had engulfed the elven camp, already licking the sky, the air heavy with smoke and screams. Families fled in all directions, carrying their children and what personal belongings or supplies they could. Some sentinels were trying to herd everyone to safety, but amidst the chaos, it was a hopeless effort. Most of their number could be seen fighting in the trees, flashes of golden armor through the suffocating smoke. The clash of metal rung out, muted by the crackle of the inferno that had once been a safe haven for the Elves. 

Ellana burst forth from the tent of Fen’Harel, her prosthetic arm strapped on and fitted with a bow. Tears and soot stained her face already as anxious violet eyes took in the scene unfolding before her. Solas emerged behind her, bearing a heavy silverite blade with deep runes carved along each edge of the fuller, the etchings now glowing a blinding bright blue. The Inquisitor was already running across the burning remains of the camp, toward her own party on the other side of the crumbling walls. The Dread Wolf paused only to shout orders to his sentinels, instructing them to round up any survivors and protect them, before following after the pale grey figure with flaming red hair.

“Your worship!” Krem’s voice carried to her over the confusion as she skidded around the corner. The Inquisition was fighting alongside several sentinels and handfuls of Dalish and city Elves against figures in ornate Tevinter armor. A dragon swooped overhead with a deafening, leathery flutter of massive wings, screeching angrily as she landed somewhere deep in the forest, claws tearing through the air. The earth quaked with her footsteps and the slash of her tail. 

“Who the hell let Morrigan loose?” Ellana screamed, stumbling. Krem pushed his way through the fighting to her side, war hammer in hand, burnished brass cheeks stained with sweat and ash. “Did she do this?!”

“No; mages. They crept up during the night and launched a volley of flames just as the elves were stirring,” he shouted over the din. “Your sister bade Morrigan to help, and she took the request a bit personally.” 

Solas caught up with them, a dangerous scowl on his face as he swept a hand to deflect a flaming boulder hurled in their direction. The missile crashed into a charging group of men brandishing swords and axes. “Where is my daughter?” he demanded.

“YOUR--?” Krem sputtered angrily, but Ellana silenced him with a look. Biting back derision, the mercenary jerked his head toward the woods behind him. “Evelyn and Sera took her as soon as the first wave hit; ran to the woods with her to keep her safe. Cullen is heading the fight and drawing the filthy bastards the other direction.”

Ellana allowed herself half a sigh of relief. Mariel could hardly be considered safe, but she was with her aunt. The Vint forces would have to send an army after her sister before they stood a chance of hurting the toddler. She fitted an arrow to her bowstring and took stiff aim, picking off a mage mid-cast. 

“Right,” Solas said with a dry smirk. “So, we follow the sound of insane laughter, then.”

Ellana put another arrow through a rogue’s throat as they lunged for Merrill. She’d been aiming for his eye, but either way, he died with a horrible scream. “Are you referring to my dear sister, or to Sera?”

“Both, of course.” Solas gave a reluctant nod to Krem, and the two men began to clear a path toward the forest, blade flashing, hammer spinning. 

As suddenly as the terror had started, the Tevinter forces drew back, seemingly without cause. The three exchanged troubled looks and picked up their speed, weaving through the crush of their own confused fighters.

“Yeah! Run away, ya bleedin little wankers!” Sera was screeching in jubilation, swinging from a tree branch by one hand, brandishing her bow in the other. Cullen batted her foot out of his face and met the hard stare of Solas with a stormy look. 

“This was no route,” he called as they approached. “They had the advantage when they all just turned and retreated. Whatever they came here for, they accomplished it.”

The Dread Wolf didn’t get a chance to wonder what the purpose of the attack was. Cold grey eyes found the answer when he spotted a black-cloaked figure emerge from the woods, a long gash bleeding freely down the side of one brown cheek, with Evelyn unconscious in his arms, dripping with blood. A choked sound left Cullen’s throat. His sword slipped from his fingers as he ran to take her from the other man. Ellana was immediately behind him, clutching trembling fingers over her lips to hold back a gasping sob. 

“She’s alive…” the cloaked man croaked in a heavy accent. Relieved of his burden, he sank to the ground, weary and dejected. 

“Evie!” Ellana cried, immediately going to work on her injuries as Cullen laid her out on the ground. Together they cleaned the blood away to uncover a nasty stab wound in her side that was beginning to turn a sickening green at the edges. There was a long gash carved deeply across her back, and her hands were covered in cuts that sank all the way to the bone. Solas summoned Merrill to them and the two mages immediately began purifying the festering hole in her stomach and halting her bleeding. Dorian, covered in soot and ash, found his way to their little group and hurried to help.

Sera was crouched next to the Antivan elf, conversing in a low voice. With a strained look and tearful eyes, she stood. “Erm. We...we have a problem.” She hugged herself tightly.

“That’s an understatement…” grumbled Krem.

“You tit,” Sera bit out. “Not her. Mariel.”

Every eye swung to the blonde elf, who shifted unsteadily on her feet and swallowed back a whimper. Ellana clutched her sister’s limp hand with white knuckles and moaned into their joined hands, whispering a pleading prayer. Solas’ face was like a sheet of ice, sharp and cold.

“Kaffas…” whispered Dorian.

“They took her,” the Antivan said, quiet with shame. “Those Vint bastards came for  _ her _ .” 

Ellana’s blood ran cold. She buried a scream against her sister’s hand, tears streamed from eyes squeezed tightly shut. Solas cursed and spun on his heel, pacing with his sword clutched in a trembling hand.  Cullen’s shoulders shook and his lips were pressed into a thin, white line as he held his wife. Krem fell to his knees beside Ellana, hugging her close against him and whispering tearfully against her ear. “Which way…?” she choked out, looking toward the Antivan. “Which way did they take my child?”

A rush of wings overhead signalled Morrigan’s return, her draconic form bleeding away like a mist as she limped toward them, clutching a long slice across one arm. “They headed North,” she hissed, golden eyes aflame. “Toward the Nevarran border and Tevinter. I can lead you after them…” She stumbled, gritting her teeth in pain.

“You’re in no condition to be going anywhere, witch,” scolded the Antivan.

Morrigan opened her mouth, either to scathe the man with words or magic, but Ellana stood abruptly, scrubbing her arm across her eyes. “Cullen, Sera, Merrill, you stay here. Keep an eye on Morrigan and my sister, make sure they heal properly. Help Abelas and the others round up the survivors and get somewhere safe. Use the Chargers, too, they excel at this sort of thing.” She turned to look at Cremisius and Dorian. “You two, with me. We’ll track them down.” Even with tears in her eyes, her sister’s blood soaked into her dress, and an aching heart, the Inquisitor gave orders as though she were born to it. 

“I’m coming as well,” Solas insisted, voice heavy and biting.

“Of course you are,” snapped Ellana, levelling a pointed glare at him. “You’re her father. Your duty is to your daughter.” 

The implication was clear. He met the small woman’s look with an expression like a block of ice, but nodded.

Within moments, the four of them were off, leaving Cullen and the Iron Bull bellowing orders, what remained of the camp bustling among the dying flames, while Merrill continued to treat Evelyn. She tried to see to Morrigan’s wounds, but the witch snarled at her, healed herself, and then began to help with the Keeper.

 

The Tevenes hadn’t made it difficult to follow them. They left behind a trail as broad as a herd of oxen, either in reckless haste, or confidence. 

“Left over Venatori?” Ellana asked as they ran.

“Unlikely,” sniffed Dorian. “This was far too organized for a disbanded cult of fanatics.”

“Those were Imperial uniforms,” Krem spat. “I’d recognize them anywhere. Task forces. They came here for a reason.”

“To kidnap a toddler?” she asked with an incredulous look over her shoulder. “What would Imperial forces want with a little girl?”

“Not just any little girl, I’m afraid.” Solas kept pace with them easily with long, loping strides. “The daughter of the much beloved and much feared Inquisitor, who has created a title and land for southern Elves, and as you declared yesterday afternoon to all who might have been listening, the daughter of Fen’Harel, who leads a militant group of Dalish, alienage refugees, and escaped slaves.”

Ellana paled, but her step never faltered. 

“I hate to say it,” said Dorian with a matter-of-fact wheeze. “But Tevinter has about a hundred different reasons to hate you both. That child represents a great threat to them.”

“Two of the biggest threats to the Imperium joining forces,” Krem mused. “All that’s missing is an alliance with the Qunari and you’d be their worst nightmare.”

Solas growled, a feral noise deep in his throat. “Just their luck that will never happen…”

“Yes, you’d think they’d be more grateful for that…” Dorian ducked a low-hanging branch with a surprised grunt. 

“What in seven hells where they hoping to achieve with this, aside from my wrath?” demanded Ellana.

“Any number of things,” Krem sneered as he dodged around the body of a man, facedown in a puddle of blood in the middle of the path. “A hostage to keep you on good behavior, a bargaining chip, even a sacrifice for some ungodly ritual.”

Ellana skidded to a halt and the mercenary crashed into her back with a clatter of metal armor. “What are you--oh…” Both the Inquisitor and Solas were gaping at him with matching expressions of abject horror. “Um...Sorry...I’m sure she’s fine…”

Dorian pinched the bridge of his nose between two fingers.

“Let us keep moving…” Solas suggested shakily.

 

The small group pushed forward, following the obvious trail of a careless retreat for what felt like hours. For such a large force, the suspiciously organized soldiers moved fast.

Finally, Solas held up a silent hand and brought their party to a sudden halt. The light of a large campfire shone through the leaves in the darkening evening, the acrid scent of smoke drifted heavily on the air. The Tevinter camp was just ahead, settled for the night in a modest clearing. “They’d be fools not to expect us,” the mage whispered.

“Great,” Ellana said with an unnerving smile. “Then it won’t shock them at all when I barge straight into their camp and and murder every single blighted one of them.”

Krem dove belatedly to grab her around the waist and haul her back, but she slipped away, and ducked under Solas’ outstretched arm. Dorian put his hands up and backed away from the outraged mother as she burst through the foliage, bow at the ready.

“Where the hell is my daughter?” she roared as she emerged into the camp with an explosion of leaves and twigs.

All activity in the camp froze. No one seemed to know what to do. There was one immense tent pitched in the center of the camp, before a large, roaring bonfire. Around fifteen soldiers were grouped around the fire, each one now turned to stare in confusion at the wild-haired elven woman who had appeared so suddenly, and so very alone. The men had concealed themselves close by, behind the trees and bushes. Solas and Dorian both began to prep their spells, ready to cast at a second’s notice.

“Inquisitor,” a light, pleasant voice slithered through the air. An absurdly tall human man stepped out of the tent, resplendent in a flowing black robe with high, pointed sleeves and a golden belt that jingled with priceless gems. He was paler even than Solas or Ellana, his skin an eerie, nearly translucent white. Pitch black hair fell to his waist, half pulled back and braided in a long queue. His eyes were a horrifying, pure white. Not the pale reddish color of an albino, nor the cloudy bluish-white of the blind, but a rich, piercing white with a dark ring lining his iris and pupils like dark pits carved into snow. “You cannot imagine how pleased I am to meet you.”

“Somehow I don’t think you’re pleased at all,” she grumbled, shifting her aim to his tall figure. “Tell me where my daughter is, you creep.”

The pale man smirked with slime in his smile. “Well on her way to the Imperium, by now, I’m sure.”

“Why?” she demanded. “Why would you take a harmless child?”

“Harmless?” he sneered. “The child is the blasphemous spawn of a pair of heretical insurgents. You style yourself as a Herald of the prophetess, and that filthy vagrant you bed claims to be some kind of god! Your little charade is far from harmless.” He stepped forward, a long staff of shimmering ice forming in his outstretched hand as he moved. “By Imperial mandate, you  _ will  _ stop this nonsense, cease your interference at our borders, and return all the Imperial property you’ve stolen--”

“People are not property!” Ellana snapped, losing her arrow. It pierced the head of the staff with a crunch. In an instant, every man in the clearing was on their feet, hands at the pommels of their swords, but the pale mage held up a lazy hand to still them. The Inquisitor didn’t bat an eye as she continued. “I don’t give a shit what Imperial law says, you cannot own the life of another person! What’s more, you have absolutely no jurisdiction here, nor anywhere else outside your own bloody Imperium, and I will not yield to your perceived superiority.”

“Silence, you intolerable, knife-eared little shrew!” the mage hissed through yellowed teeth. 

Dorian snorted behind a tree. “Poor sod...ready to do battle, Solas? I have a feeling…--Solas?” The Tevene peered around, but his fellow mage, as well as Krem, were nowhere to be seen. “Dash it--”

“You will obey me,” the pale man was going on. “Or else you will never see your little vermin-child again!”

“That is quite enough,” a deep voice rumbled like a roll of thunder in the darkness behind the Imperium mage. The tall man spun, but before he could work up even the most basic of spells, there was a flash of brilliant blue light. By the time it faded, every soldier in the clearing had been turned to brittle, grey stone, and Solas leaned against a tent pole with a chilling smile and smoky blue sparks faded from his eyes. The man screamed in anger, took a shocked step backward, and bumped right into Dorian’s chest. Krem leveled a dagger at him from one side, and Ellana smiled sweetly up at him from the other.

“What was that you said about my ears?” she asked, words dripping with sugar.

“I believe the exact term he used was ‘filthy, intolerable, knife-eared, slatternly little quim’,” supplied Dorian, the very picture of helpfulness.

“Wh-WHAT?!” the outraged man screeched.

“I heard him,” Krem growled. “Heard him call her a disgusting dagger-eared whore, too. Don’t worry, El, I love your ears.” She beamed at him while the pale man sputtered.

“I NEVER--”

Solas hummed. “I do recall some rather unpleasant words regarding my daughter, as well.” He moved forward with lean, predatory grace and rested a casual elbow on the stone shoulder of a pike-bearer.

“Our daughter?” Ellana put a dramatic hand to her bosom. “The love of my life, fruit of our very own loins, the physical incarnation of our shared passion?!”

“The very same, my dear.”

“NO!”

“I didn’t say--”

Solas closed his hand over the statue’s head and squeezed, eyes locked with the other man’s. The stone crumbled in a dust explosion under his powerful grip. “Shut up,” he hissed, icy blue eyes gleaming, all trace of joking vanished. The mage squeaked. “Tell us where she is, or you will beg for as clean a death as I have given your pathetic little friend here.” He patted the shoulder of the headless statue fondly.

“I-I don’t know where they’re taking her exactly!” he squealed, his prior slimy confidence evaporating. 

Solas exchanged a look with Krem. “Pluck his eyeballs out,” the mercenary suggested. The elf moved forward.

“We were only the distraction, I never even saw the child!” the man screamed.

“Ooh, peel his nails off, too…” Dorian offered with an enthusiastic grin.

“I swear to you, that’s all I know!”

Solas chuckled darkly as he advanced. “The last time someone said that to me, what he actually meant was, ‘you have an illegitimate daughter with the most precious smile in the Southern Kingdoms’. You can see why I might be a bit skeptical of the phrase…”

“Make him drink molten silver.” Ellana’s eyes sparkled.

“Th-they went north! That’s all I know, I swear it!”

“Ah, yes,” Dorian said. “A general Tevinterly direction, very helpful. Couldn’t have possibly figured that out ourselves.”

“I’ve got it,” Krem announced. “I need a bottle of quickfire, a funnel, some aged brandy, a pair of tongs, and a gelding knife.”

Dorian couldn’t restrain a bark of laughter as the man nearly fell to his knees.

“The Black Divine!” he screeched. “They’re taking her to the Black Divine!”

He didn’t have the chance to scream out in pain as Solas closed his palm over the man’s face and squeezed. His arm glowed with a familiar green light and the anchor flared to life with a violent crackle and then all that was left was a pulpy, red mess atop the man’s shoulders. The other three watched the body crumple and fall to the ground with a wet flop.

“Bollocks,” said Dorian.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this chapter is entitled "we're fucked"


End file.
